Tales from Cyrodiil: Luckless
by SickleYield
Summary: Independent storyline in the TFC universe, based on a Hero of Kvatch who has lost her gloss and the only companion she can find who will put up with her. Rated for violence. Now complete.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This story is part of the Tales from Cyrodiil miniverse, in which the Hero of Kvatch performed basically just the main quest (and one or two others, as you'll see) rather than going through every questline in the game.

Bhed gro-Gamghaz is not meant to be the same as the Orc that hangs out in the Grey Mare usually – that guy's just too rude. ;) Mod items/races/etc. are fair game; this is where Manx Khajiit and the black and red armor come from. Those who use SickleYield mods may also find other things familiar, but you don't have to to enjoy the story.

I'm writing this story as sort of a bet with myself: can I get people to read a story wherein the Hero of Kvatch is not male, human, elven, or popular?

Chapter 1

So an Orc walked into a bar…

Sorry, that's getting ahead of the story. Let's go back a little way.

It was a quiet evening inside the Grey Mare. It nearly always was. Most people preferred to give their custom to the Oak and Crosier, which had more room and a better atmosphere. That is to say, there _was _an atmosphere inside the Grey Mare, but a fug of wood smoke and old beer does little to recommend an establishment to the finer sort of clientele. Illicit meetings sometimes took place here, but such were a little less common in Chorrol than in some of the other cities of Tamriel.

Tonight there were only three patrons: An Orc in old leather clothes, a drunken Breton back in the corner, and a stocky little Khajiit without a tail. The Orc and the Breton knew each other, at least by sight, but it was the sort of acquaintanceship that depends heavily on both parties ignoring each other. The Orc gave the Khajiit the odd once-over, but he correctly assessed her black armor as both unusual and expensive and decided that asking what had happened to the tail was probably a bad idea.

He probably weighed twice what she did, but Bhed generally tried not to hit people smaller than he was. (This generally resulted in his not hitting people at all, but that was just fine with Bhed.) He also didn't much relish the idea of having to punch someone who was wearing pauldrons with spikes on them. The armor wasn't metal, exactly. It wasn't exactly stone, either. And that surely wasn't blood tipping all the spikes, because the Orc knew dried blood wasn't red (he'd seen enough of it in his time). The whole ensemble was weird enough for him to leave whoever-she-was the Oblivion alone and sit quietly with his usual pint of unusually bad ale. Bhed gro-Gamghaz wasn't a bad Orc. Things just never seemed to go his way.

The Khajiit was eating a cut of rare meat and a potato. This showed unusually bad judgment inside the Grey Mare, but then, only somebody new in town would walk in dressed like that anyway. Even more unusual, she wasn't drinking.

She didn't take her gauntlets off to eat, either. Bhed classed this with the armor itself in the category of very ominous signs. He drank faster. There was a reason why he always paid for his drinks in advance. _Makes it easier to leave suddenly._

The Breton back in the corner – Reginald or something, Bhed had never really learned his name – laughed to himself, then muttered. The Khajiit flicked her ears, but didn't look at him. Her black hair stuck back and out in a stiff mass. She had a wide, flat nose even for a Khajiit. _And this is an _Orc _saying so, _thought Bhed.

And _then _an Orc walked into the bar.

Bhed looked him over cautiously. He wasn't bigger than Bhed. Not a lot of Orcs were. But he was wearing chainmail in an unusual pattern of black links, and Bhed could smell the drink on him from where he sat. _Great. So this isn't his first stop._

The newcomer stomped up to the bar and brought down a mailed fist on the surface, making a couple of tin mugs jump.

"Ale," he growled.

"Two gold," the proprietress said.

"Up front?"

"When you come in here good and stinking already, yeah," the proprietress said. "Got thrown out of the Oak and Crosier, did you?"

"None of your business, woman. Just gimme the ale."

The Orc tossed a couple of septims onto the bar. He gave it enough force that they rolled off, and the woman behind the bar had to lean over and fish for them. The Orc leered at her homespun-clad posterior. Bhed rolled his eyes. He thought about going home, but he didn't get up. It had been a long day and a long hike, and not much to show for it. Maybe life in the Fighters' Guild was glamorous for _some _people. Those people weren't Bhed gro-Ghamgaz. _Chasing goblins through a dark hole for a hundred gold a day? Ha._

One of these days he'd try and learn to read. Probably wouldn't do him much good. People took one look at Bhed and made certain fundamental assumptions. Other Orcs were not the exception to this rule.

"Here," the proprietress said, and plumped down a tin mug and a bottle of ale on the bar in front of the stranger. "You wanna room?"

"How much?"

"Ten septims a night, and you kill your own bugs."

"Fine." He tossed some more septims, then leered some more as the proprietress collected them. "So where do _you _sleep, lady?"

"Not with any drunken Orcs," the woman said.

"Now that ain't no way to talk." The Orc uncapped the ale with some difficulty, between his inebriation and his gauntlets, and drank half of it in a gulp. "Let's you'n me be friends, huh?" he reached out and fingered the woman's cheek with a gauntleted hand. She twitched backward, reaching for something under the bar. The Orc caught her wrist halfway there. "Oh, so that's it, huh? I like a woman with some spirit. Makes it more fun to -"

"This one does not believe the lady is interested," said a voice. Bhed was probably as surprised as the stranger to hear from the Khajiit in the corner. Her voice had seen some hard use. She wouldn't be singing any operas any time soon, anyway.

"Who're you?" the Orc said. He turned, swaying slightly, to squint into the shadows. The Khajiit slid her chair back, displaying the curved dagger strapped to her left thigh.

"This one suggests you convey your custom elsewhere, yes," the Khajiit said.

"Hey, I know you," the Orc said. "Seen pictures of that armor. You're the one they call the Hero of Kvatch, right?"

The Khajiit's ears flickered again. "Two years it has been, and much blood under that bridge. No one speaks that name now."

"Not too many Khajiit around without tails," the Orc said. "How'd you lose it?"

The ears slid slowly down to half-mast. (One of them was sharply notched.) Bhed noted that he had gauged correctly the effect of this particular question.

"I was born without it," the Khajiit said. "Now finish your ale and depart, if you please. This one is offended by your smell."

"The Hero of Kvatch," the Orc mused, appearing to ignore her. Behind him, the proprietress had vanished from view, hiding behind the bar. Bhed wondered if he could get out the door without one or the other of them plugging him with a thrown knife. He wasn't that quick on his feet. _Probably not._

"Now what was that name, again?"

"Thrissi," the Khajiit said.

"That's right," the Orc said. "Thrissi." Then he dragged the axe off his back with lightning speed and charged for the Khajiit.

Bhed stood up, knocking his chair backwards, but he'd left his weapons down at the Guild for the porter to repair. It didn't matter, anyway. The Khajiit dove sideways out of her chair, rolled, and came up holding the knife. The stranger's axe came down on the empty chair, cutting it cleanly in half. He whirled, holding the weapon at the ready. It was a better axe than any Bhed had ever owned, the silver blade crawling with green magicka.

"Pretty quick, for a stubby thing like you," he said. Bhed agreed privately, but judged verbal assent to be a bad idea. He edged toward the bar, being careful not to make any sudden movements. Both of them seemed to be ignoring him.

"It was a nice try," Thrissi said. "One Orc looks much like another to a Khajiit, and even this one's nose cannot tell drink on your shirt from drink down your ugly gullet. But you should have worn different mail."

"Recognized that, did you? No matter," the Orc said. He swung the axe again. The Khajiit ducked under his upraised arms and jabbed for the hem of his mail, but the dagger slid off with a couple of thin sparks. She whirled aside as the axe came down again.

Bhed winced as another chair splintered. The stranger now stood with his back to Bhed, facing the little Khajiit. Her ears were flat to her head now, yellow eyes narrow. Both of them seemed to be ignoring the Orc in the worn-out leathers.

"That's not much of a weapon for somebody like you," the Orc said. "Ain't half as good as the one you killed Lord Arghaz's son with."

"This one wondered how long it would take him to follow that trail," the Khajiit said. "Apparently this one was wrong to suppose he would come himself." She shifted carefully in her boots.

"Yep," the Orc said. "You do something that dumb, sooner or later it's gonna catch - "

It was at this point that Bhed rabbit-punched him in the back of the head. The stranger dropped like a stone. The floor shook as he hit it. Bhed rubbed his knuckles. "Rgh. That's why I usually hit the soft parts." The Khajiit edged forward, knife still in hand, and prodded the stranger with one foot.

"Bloody flaming Akatosh," said the proprietress, straightening up from behind the bar. "You killed him."

"She is right," the Khajiit said. "The back of his skull is pulp." She removed a gauntleted hand from the Orc's head and straightened, gracefully for such a thick-bodied creature. She surveyed Bhed narrowly. "Why did you do that, Orc? This one does not know you."

"Enfrim here can't afford to lose too many chairs," Bhed said mildly. "If she goes out of business, I got to go back to sleeping at the Guild."

"Thanks," The proprietress said. "But she's still going to owe me for the furniture."

"Here," The Khajiit sighed. She unhooked a pathetically small purse from her belt and tossed it onto the bar. "This one has no more."

Enfrim counted the money. "Yeah, this'll cover it."

"At least this one has a new weapon," the Khajiit said. She picked up the dead stranger's axe, hefting the heavy thing with ease. She fingered the polished handle lovingly.

"What happened to your other gear?" Bhed said. "I heard where you had a mace with, you know, runes and so on."

"The Mace of the Light Freed, yes. This one was forced to sell it," the Khajiit said.

"Ever think about joining a Guild?" Bhed said.

"Oh, yes. This one was in the Fighter's Guild. There was a, hm, slight disagreement with the management." The Khajiit pulled a purse from the Orc's belt that was much larger than the one she had just given away, peered inside, and grunted in satisfaction. "Ah hah."

"About what?" Bhed said.

"A guildmate chose to comment unfavorably on this one's appearance. This one was forced to remonstrate with him. What shall we do with the body?" The Khajiit said.

"Hm." Bhed turned his attention to this more pressing problem, trying to remember if he knew what the word "remonstrate" meant. "What do you say, Enfrim?"

"Toss him out the back," Enfrim said negligently, still counting her new coins. "'S what we always do. I know somebody who can come get him later. Reynald won't care, he doesn't even know where he is." The Breton back in the corner was still in the same place, now singing an old and colorful ballad to himself.

"This one continues to contemplate the wisdom of her decision to patronize this establishment," the Khajiit. "But it will do." She hung the axe from a thong on the back of her cuirass and bent to seize the dead Orc's ankle. Bhed watched her drag the body toward the back door. She was evidently stronger than she looked, but a three-hundred-pound dead weight is no laughing matter. _Gonna take her an hour, at that rate._

"Here, lemme do that," Bhed said, and reached down to grab the dead Orc's collar. He dragged the corpse out the back door and behind some hawthorne bushes. They were scraggly and unkempt, like everything about the Grey Mare, but they hid the body well enough. Bhed went back inside and closed the door quietly.

The Khajiit called Thrissi was still there, slightly to his surprise. She seemed to be arguing with the proprietress, standing in front of the bar.

"This one gave you more than enough to cover a night's lodgings as well as the furniture, yes!"

"Night's still young," Enfrim countered. "How do I know somebody else isn't after you?"

"This one does not know that herself," the Khajiit said. "But the rest of this one's enemies are smart and rich enough to hire real assassins, not send their second cousins in mail knit with the family pattern."

Enfrim folded her arms. "Oh, and _that's _supposed to reassure me, is it? Another twenty gold, or you sleep somewhere else."

"Come off it, Enfrim," Bhed said. "You know she gave you three times what those chairs cost."

"But," Enfrim started to say, and caught sight of Bhed's expression. She vacillated for an instant anyway before she said, "Fine, but only for one night."

"Fair enough," said the tailless Khajiit. "No establishment needs more than one night's custom from Thrissi the Luckless. Particularly one with food as bad as yours."

"Folks don't come here for the food," Bhed said. "Gimme another ale, Enfrim?" He handed her another two gold.

"Here you go, Bhed," Enfrim said, all appearance of good humor apparently restored. "You want one, Khajiit?"

"This one does not drink ale, thank you."

Bhed took the bottle and went to retrieve his seat and mug. He settled himself carefully, listening to the chair creak. When he looked up, the Khajiit was seated across from him. She had big hips for a small Khajiit, but she still fit much better on the chair than Bhed.

"This one recognizes no debt," she informed him. "This one could have killed Garn gro-Arghaz without your help."

"Sure," Bhed said, keeping to himself any reservations regarding the chances of a small Khajiit with an unenchanted knife against a large Orc with a _highly_ enchanted axe.

"This one is not particularly fond of Orcs."

"Can't say as I blame you."

"However, this one _is _very fond of her new axe," Thrissi said.

"Not a lot of Khajiit use axes," Bhed observed. He sipped his ale. It was as bad as the last one had been.

"This one was born Manx. We are stronger than most Khajiit."

"I see that." Thrissi watched him narrowly, apparently trying to decide if he was being sarcastic. Her ears twitched once. Bhed drank more of his ale. It was possible this really _was _the Hero of Kvatch, but if so, her ability to glare still fell somewhat short of Modryn Oreyn's, and Bhed saw _him _every day.

"This one would be willing to render you a service," she said at last. "If this one can do so."

"Hm." Bhed thought about that. "I don't have any empires I need saved right now."

"This one has had her fill of empire-saving, thank you," Thrissi said. Her ears flattened momentarily, then rose reluctantly back to a normal position.

"Well…" Bhed thought for a moment. Modryn _had _been complaining about that thing out in the hills Westward. "There's a guild job I could use some help with. Pays good, but nobody wants to do it. You help me out and I'll give you half whatever I get from Modryn."

"If no one in the Fighter's Guild wants to do it, it must be tantamount to suicide," Thrissi said. "Yes?"

"Ah, so you remember that part, huh? Yep. There's a whole cave full of bandits out there, and one or two caravans have disappeared. The Count wants it cleaned out, but Modryn won't order anybody to do it and the fee's too small to split ten ways, you know what I mean?"

"Is it large enough to split two ways?" Thrissi said. Bhed told her the fee. "Hmm. No wonder no one volunteers. But this one has nothing better to do."

"Oh, good," Bhed said dryly. "In that case I'll meet you back here tomorrow. Got to get my armor from the porter."

"In that case, this one will retire now." She rose from her seat, shifting her shoulders under the new weight of the axe. "You did not tell me your name, Orc."

"Bhed gro-Gamghaz."

"This one is not entirely pleased to make your acquaintance, given the circumstances, but it will have to do." She turned and started for the stairs.

"Ever think about the Mages' Guild?" Bhed said. "They have Khajiits. You don't have to do much magic to join."

"This one was in that Guild also," Thrissi said over her shoulder. "This one was forced to leave after a small disagreement with one of those Khajiits whom you mention."

"Did he survive this small disagreement?" Bhed said. He had a funny feeling it had probably been a _he._

"He did not," Thrissi said.

"I figured. Good night, Thrissi."

"Good night, Bhed gro-Gamghaz."

Enfrim wiped down the bar as she watched the Khajiit vanish from view. "Bet you're gonna regret that, Bhed."

"More'n likely," Bhed said. "But it's not gonna be boring."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

That was how Bhed gro-Gamghaz found himself up against the wall in a dark cave with a bleeding hole in his leg.

Splitting up hadn't been his idea, and Thrissi hadn't said anything about it; she'd just disappeared somewhere during that last furious altercation. He was still jittery from bloodlust, but it was wearing off, which was a very bad thing. Bhed knew this even in his current mental state. At the moment, his leg didn't hurt. Nothing hurt, though his steel armor was dented in a dozen places.

He growled under his breath. The things that had attacked him last were dead – turned to dust – and apparently so was the one that had gone after Thrissi. At least, there was gray dust scattered over the glowing mushrooms in that corner of the cavern. Something was wrong with that, but with the fire pounding through his head he wasn't sure what. The stink of blood and something else – something metallic and old – only made it harder to think.

Now something else was coming, booted feet ringing on the slimy stone. Bhed adjusted his grip on the hammer, squelching another growl. He remained with his back to the wall, a strategic coup of epic proportions for an Orc with bloodlust still on him. _Arkay_, he thought glumly. _It's wearing off, all right._

His head was starting to hurt when a big Nord with a steel axe burst out of a side passage. The man ran forward, shrieking and waving the weapon over his head. Bhed took a step forward and swung the warhammer into the Nord's belly. It made a sickening _squelch_, and the man staggered back a step. This was fairly impressive, given that he should have flown back and hit the wall. Bhed didn't waste any time worrying about it, because the Nord hadn't let go of the axe. He took another swing at Bhed, though there was blood running out one side of his mouth.

Bhed sidestepped and hit him in the head this time. There was a loud _crack_. The Nord dissolved, something like ash sifting down into a neat pile on the stone floor. Bhed caught a glimpse of something shiny from the corner of his eye. He ducked and raised his pauldroned shoulder, just in time to have an arrow ricochet off the steel instead of hitting his unprotected head. _Where'd I lose that helmet, anyway?_

That was the problem with bloodlust. You were always losing equipment. It didn't help that his leg was starting to throb, too.

There was a shriek that cut off abruptly, followed by the sound of something clattering on the ground. The shriek had sounded female, if not precisely Human. Bhed risked a look. A stubby form was just visible in the opening of the other side passage, outlined in a cloud of luminous dust. A steel bow sent back a faint gleam from the floor.

"Thrissi?" Bhed ground out. It wasn't hard to resist the urge to charge over there and kill her, but talking was still an effort. The leg might have something to do with that. One of the godsdamned whatever-they-were had cut the thigh strap on his left greave, going for the big artery underneath. It had missed, or he would be dead already, but he was still bleeding quite a bit. The trouser he wore for padding under it was soaked.

"This one believes we have killed them all," said a familiar voice. "Though this one has some words to say to you regarding your description of this assignment. Necromancers? Pah." She batted at the cloud of dust as she came forward. Thrissi held her new axe up on one shoulder. The mana glow was gone from the blade, quenched under the stain of dark blood.

"What… were… they?" Bhed managed. He hung the warhammer back in its harness with difficulty. His cuirass was badly dented in the chest, and he was becoming aware that some of his ribs were, if not broken, badly bruised.

"Vampires. What else?" Thrissi's yellow eyes glowed faintly in the dark. They grew smaller as she squinted at the Orc. "Ah, this one sees you are not quite yourself yet. You are wounded also, yes? I smell Orcish blood."

"My leg," Bhed said.

"Hm." The Khajiit leaned around his body, peering at his left thigh. "You have been lucky, it seems. Or quicker than are most Orcs, even under the influence that still grips you. This one has something that will heal that very quickly."

"Brought my own," Bhed said. Talking was getting easier, but his head was hurting worse. He pulled off his left gauntlet and fumbled at his belt purse, sliding down the wall. His fingers were a little shaky, but that was normal. He extracted the bottle of herbal extracts, pulled the cork, and shook it out over his leg.

"This one will see if there is anything here worth keeping," Thrissi said.

"Be careful," Bhed said.

"Indeed." The yellow pinpoints narrowed again in something like amusement, and Thrissi stalked off toward the doorway the Nord had left. She was less graceful than most Khajiit women, with a certain solidity to her step, but she was utterly silent despite her spike-topped boots. Bhed lost sight of her quickly in the dark cave.

His leg stopped hurting a minute or so later. He thought about standing up, but he was tired, and his head still hurt, and lavender extracts didn't do anything for blood lo…

Someone was shaking him by the pauldrons.

"Wake up, you idiot," hissed a ragged alto in his ear. "This one cannot possibly carry you, no! Wake up!"

"Whuh?" said Bhed. The shaking paused. Bhed squinted his eyes open, trying to ignore his ongoing headache. Two yellow eyes glowed from perhaps five inches away, the distance necessitated by the distance between Thrissi's eyes and the end of her muzzle, which was breathing hot air on his face.

"Hmph," said Thrissi. She let go and edged back slightly, squatting on her haunches. "You should invest in a better potion next time. This one was not sure she would be able to revive you."

"They've never let me down before," Bhed said. He located the small skin bag he kept on his belt and took a drink of water. It helped clear some of the nasty taste out of his mouth. He hadn't drunk nearly enough last night to be hung over, so it must just be the aftermath of bloodlust.

"Neither have you killed ten vampires before, unless this one misses her guess," Thrissi said.

"Wh - ? That many?" Bhed leaned on the wall as he staggered upright. His leg seemed to be completely healed. He realized after a moment that his ribs had stopped hurting, too. "What'd you use on me, anyway?"

"An extract of ambrosia," Thrissi said. She straightened, looking at him with her head on one side. "My last. And since Mankar Camoran's Paradise is no more, it will be long before this one sees any more. And yes, given that this one killed six, you must have accounted for at least ten. It is difficult to count them when they are dust, of course, but this one collected enough of that to make a pretty penny from some men in the Imperial City."

"Find anything else?" Bhed said. He could stand upright without leaning on the wall, but he still felt bone-tired.

Thrissi hefted a sack in each hand. One clinked promisingly. "In point of fact, yes. We will divide it when we get back to the inn, hm? This one found the letters you said you wanted in a coffin down below." She handed him a smaller pouch. He put it in his belt purse.

"Yeah," Bhed said. "Modryn's going to blow a gasket when he finds out the client lied, too. Vampires." Bhed shook his head in disgust. "We're gonna have a long walk first, though."

"After you," said Thrissi the Luckless.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"Vampires, was it?" Modryn Oreyn said. He was a smallish, lean Dunmer whose face showed his age, especially around the eyes. Thin as those eyes presently were, it wasn't hard to see how he'd earned the lines.

"Yep," said Bhed gro-Gamghaz. His head was still pounding in earnest, mitigated only slightly by the new sack of gold at his belt. He had a new amulet, too. It was copper, a sharp contrast with his dark green skin. The enchantment wasn't very good, but it was better than nothing. Probably.

"Gotta be kidding me," said a familiar voice from behind him. Bhed turned to see Kurz gro-Baroth standing with folded arms. Kurz was apple-green, considerably better looking than Bhed, and mostly unmindful of the fact. He wasn't a bad fighter, either. _Just a little temperamental. And this is another Orc saying so_, Bhed thought.

"Nope," said Bhed. "Turned to dust. Thrissi here collected a pile of it. Says she knows somebody who pays for it."

"And you killed them?" Kurz said skeptically. As usual for when he was in town, he was wearing a pair of trousers and not much else. "Last I heard, you could just about take on a couple of goblins without tripping and hitting yourself in the head."

"Now, that ain't no way to talk," Bhed said mildly. "The job's been up for a long time. You could've gone."

"Yeah, if I waOOF!"

"That's enough," Modreyn Oreyn said. Bhed edged off to one side.

"This one does not appreciate your attitude," Thrissi the Luckless said. Kurz growled, but lying on the floor with an armored Khajiit crouching on your chest is not the best place from which to make threatening pronouncements. Thrissi held her dagger with the edge laid gently across Kurz's throat. "This one thinks Bhed gro-Gamghaz quite a good fighter for a large, stupid, ugly Orc."

"Thanks," said Bhed. He wasn't sure which was worse, the fact that he hadn't seen her move or the fact that her ears were still standing at a normal height. _She isn't even mad yet._

Kurz scowled, twisting his handsome features. "I'll show you a - "

"I said it's enough," said Modryn Oreyn coldly. "Madam, this is guild business. It is therefore none of yours. Kurz, you may resume your archery practice."

Thrissi stepped nimbly off Kurz's chest and sheathed the dagger. The Orc got easily to his feet, muttering.

"This one is not part of your guild," Thrissi said sweetly. She smiled, showing all of her sharp teeth. One or two were broken off. "If you wish to discuss matters with this one at a later time…"

"Oh, no, you don't," Bhed said, forestalling Kurz's reply. "I've known you nowhere near long enough for you to be getting me thrown out of places."

"Very reasonable," Modryn Oreyn said. He looked pointedly at Kurz, who turned and left with evident reluctance. "And Bhed, you seem to have neglected to mention why you brought this Khajiit here."

"Um," Bhed said, hesitating under Oreyn's glare. The Dunmer was evidently still in fine form. In fact, it was possible he might outdo himself. Bhed reminded himself that Oreyn could not, legally, kill his own guildmember. "I met her at the Grey Mare. Here are the letters." He handed over the small pouch.

Oreyn flipped through it. "Ah, the letters of Rylyeh," Oreyn said. "Very good. That much was true, at least. Though I will have some words to say to our client regarding her equivocation on certain points." Bhed breathed a silent sigh of relief. Then Oreyn pinned him with a look and said, "And you don't strike me as an Orc with that sort of preferences."

"This one believes the surly old Dunmer just called you a pervert," Thrissi said. Bhed eyed her nervously, but her ears were all the way up now, eyes squinched up in near-laughter.

"Nothing like that," Bhed said. "I told her we'd split the take. She killed six of those things."

"Hm. Well, what you do with the money is your own business. Here." Modryn handed him a sack. "And I'm forty-five years old, thank you so much. Now go away."

"With pleasure," Thrissi said. "Bhed?"

"Upstairs," he said firmly. "I'm not budging one step out of this place without my armor."

"Fine. I can repair my own while you are counting the money," Thrissi said, and turned and went up the stairs without checking to see if he was following.

Bhed sighed, shook his head, and went after her. By the time he got to the top of the stairs, she was already seated on one of the beds with her cuirass off. Bhed almost dropped the money sack. (Almost. He wasn't _actually_ stupid.) It wasn't so unusual to see a shirtless woman in the Guild living quarters. There were no private rooms, people had to change clothes somewhere, and mostly no one made a big deal out of it. Nor, contrary to Modryn's suggestion, did Bhed find Khajiit particularly attractive.

You didn't see a set of scars like that every day, though.

"Divines," Bhed said. "What happened to _you_?"

Thrissi paused with hammer uplifted, looked at Bhed, then glanced down at her bare torso. She was buxom, for a Khajiit, but the fur on her breasts was crisscrossed with naked pink scars, and so was the rest of her visible body. A very large mark ran from one shoulder to the other hip. It was perfectly straight.

"Any number of things have happened to this one, Bhed gro-Gamghaz," Thrissi said. "That is why this one learned to repair her own armor. This one does not care to be without it for any length of time."

"I can see why," Bhed said.

"Hmph," said Thrissi, and went back to working with the hammer. "Count the money, Orc. You _can_ count, yes?"

"Sure," Bhed said. He sat down on another bed and emptied the sack of coins onto the homespun blanket. "Plenty of fighters can't read, but not being able to count will get you starved to death in a month."

"This one is disappointed. Soon she may have to make an upward adjustment of her opinion of Orcish intelligence." Thrissi put the cuirass back on and doffed her greaves. Bhed heard this, but kept his eyes firmly on the coins. There were some things an Orc just didn't want to see.

"I won't hold my breath," he said. "Frankly, I'm surprised you even let me count the money."

"This one knows an honest Orc when she sees one, yes."

"Do you, now?" Bhed said. "I wish I could say the same."

"If you are finished risking your life for the surly Dunmer for right now, you could come with this one to the Imperial City. You are welcome to half this one's earnings from the ashes."

"'S a generous offer," Bhed said. He scooped half the coins into his own purse, shoved the others back into the sack, and tossed it in Thrissi's direction. "Why?"

The Khajiit dropped the hammer, caught the bag, and caught the hammer with the other hand. Her ears flickered.

"This one has not fought beside another in some time," she said. "This one sometimes misses it."

Bhed gro-Gamghaz sighed. "Yeah," he said. "Me, too."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

And _that _was how Bhed gro-Gamghaz found himself standing on a very expensive carpet with a very expensive sword at his throat. He was wearing full armor, but that didn't seem to matter much to the man in the full Dwarven plate. (He might be an Elf. There was no telling under that teakettle helmet.) The blade had found the slice of skin between his iron helm and his cuirass with perfect efficiency, and far faster than Bhed had expected _anyone _to move wearing Dwarven armor.

"And what brings an armed and armored Orc to our little enclave today, hm?" said a voice from behind the visor. "Wearing a helmet in the city on a sunny day. What have you to hide, pray tell?" It sounded Elven, but it might conceivably be an unusually supercilious human. Bhed wasn't particularly interested in the question at the moment. He was wondering whether he could draw his warhammer before his throat was cut. He doubted it.

"Um," Bhed said. "I'm with her."

"With whom?" said the Elf.

"I'd say turn around real slow, but I don't think he'd do it," Bhed said over the mer's shoulder. Thrissi the Luckless stood there with her new axe held at roughly neck level. This was something of a stretch, given the difference in their heights.

"Hello, Cylben," Thrissi said. The Elf twitched. Bhed took a careful step backwards, away from the sword, as the mer turned slowly to look down at the Khajiit.

"And how did _you _get in here?" he said. "And I thought I told you to call me Dolovas. We are _not _on first-name terms." Bhed relaxed. That tone of exasperated resignation could only come from someone who had met Thrissi before. She hung her axe back in its thong as the mer sheathed his sword.

"This one does not like the name Dolovas," Thrissi said. "It does not roll easily off the tongue. Where is Roland?"

"Where he always is," said Cylben Dolovas. "But you know you're not supposed to bring strangers in here. The Orc will have to wait outside."

"Nonsense," Thrissi said. "This one fully expects he will be a member in good standing as soon as this one has explained to Roland how he killed ten vampires with only slight assistance."

"_Slight _assistance?" said Bhed.

"This one was once renowned for her modesty," Thrissi informed him.

"Is that so?" Bhed said.

"This one is disappointed by your lack of faith," Thrissi said mildly. "Though you might remove your helmet. Cylben is not the only one here inclined to be suspicious of those who hide their heads in daylight."

"But _he's_ wearing a helmet," Bhed said. He removed his own and hung it on his belt.

"That's different," Cylben Dolovas said. "I'm the only security we have. The others couldn't fight their way out of a paper bag."

"Once he was a bodyguard to the head of the Order," Thrissi said. "That was before Seridur turned out to be a vampire himself. This one was put to considerable trouble finding that out, too."

"It was a mistake anyone could make," the Elf said defensively. Bhed was beginning to suspect, based on his ragged tenor and general tone of complaint, that he might be a Dunmer. "Seridur was a powerful illusionist, you know. They all are."

"Yes, yes," Thrissi waved that away. "Come along, Bhed gro-Gamghaz. This one is tired of hauling around this sack." He'd offered to carry the sack several times on the long walk from Chorrol, but Bhed decided against bringing it up now. As he followed Thrissi down the dark basement steps, he heard Dolovas mutter,

"Oh, sure. She uses the _Orc's _given name."

Bhed concentrated on not falling down the stairs. They were made for someone with rather smaller feet than his, and his steel boots didn't make that any easier. Fortunately, it got a little lighter down at the bottom...

...Where he found _another _blade at his throat. Bhed rolled his eyes. "Thrissi..."

"This is Bhed gro-Gamghaz," Thrissi said. "He is very certainly not a vampire, and you are being very rude, Mister Jenseric."

"Hm," said a male voice. The blade went away. Bhed squinted through the gloom at a mustached Breton, who was examining him critically. "I do apologize. But Thrissi knows she is not supposed to bring strangers here." He turned a cold blue stare on the Khajiit, who appeared completely unmoved.

"This one has brought more ashes," she said, and tossed the bag at Jenseric, who caught it with an _oof._

"Well, well," he said, and opened it to withdraw a smaller sack. He took it over to a small table, upon which stood an alchemist's calcinator. "Oh, and you can come out now, Grey Throat."

An Argonian rose from behind a large chest on the other side of the room. A patch of greyish scales under his chin suggested the reason for the nickname. He tucked away a small crossbow as Bhed watched. "Ah, so the little Khajiit has been busy since last we saw her."

"Not as much as she would like," Thrissi said. "This one supposes things could be worse."

"They always can," the Argonian said. His long tail waved gently as he came forward, sizing Bhed up. "Pleased to make your acquaintance, Bhed gro-Gamghaz."

"You, too," Bhed said. "Are all vampire hunters that skittish?"

"We, alas, do not hunt," Roland Jenseric said. "At least, very seldom. It requires a very specialized skillset. It is for this reason that you find us, as you say, skittish." He weighed the bag thoughtfully, then dropped a pinch of gray dust into the calcinator. A greenish flame _whooshed _upward. Then he nodded, tied the bag shut, and pulled another small bag out of the larger one.

"And no less trusting than this one remembers," Thrissi said.

"Sorry, but Brionne came in with a pound of campfire ash last week," Jenseric said. "It's a sad thing, the state the Empire's in now. You can't trust a living soul."

Thrissi flicked her ears at mention of the Empire. "Not if that living soul is Brionne," she said. "This one warned you about him."

"As did I," Grey Throat said.

"He just seemed like such a credible fellow," said Roland Jenseric.

"Yes, and Thrissi seems like a fat little braggart," said the Argonian. "Seeming is easy."

"Thank you very much," Thrissi said. Bhed watched her, but the ears were firmly upright.

"I said _seems, _dear lady," Grey Throat said. "I have reason to remember the strength of your arm." He reached a scaled hand over and ruffled the Khajiit's stiff mane. Bhed stared in disbelief as Thrissi refrained from disemboweling him. She glowered, eyes narrow.

"This one suggests you be careful, lest you be reminded in a more direct fashion," she said. The Argonian grinned, showing a mouthful of sharp teeth.

"Such an adorable creature. You really must accept my offer of a drink one of these evenings."

"Bah," Thrissi said, and turned back to Roland Jenseric. "Well, Roland?"

"All fine," he said. "I'm afraid I don't have eight thousand on me at the moment. If you'd care to come back tomorrow morning..."

"Roland, Roland," Thrissi said. "You would not be trying to cheat an honest Khajiit, would you?"

"No, because that is impossible," Grey Throat said. "There is no such thing as an honest Khajiit. Go on, Thrissi. We remember our debt to you. Is this not enough?"

"For now," Thrissi said.

"I could make it ten thousand," Roland Jenseric said, waggling his eyebrows conspiratorially. "If you were willing to do a little job for us in the meantime?"

"Oh, really?" said Thrissi the Luckless. "And what can this one do for the Order today?"


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

"So when he said 'specialized skillset,' what he meant was 'willing to walk around sewers in the dark?'" Bhed said.

"Shh," said Thrissi. She walked ahead of him through the reeking tunnel with her axe drawn. The magicka from the blade cast a faint and eerie glow on her arm and shoulder; she was deliberately keeping it away from her head. _I wonder why she never wears a helmet._

Bhed adjusted his grip on his warhammer. He hated the dark. He hated it down in the caves where he generally made his living, and he really hated it when it meant walking through this smell. There were spells you could use to see better, but he didn't know any. The tunnel they were walking was dry, but it had definitely been used at some point. The olfactory evidence was more than conclusive.

"Why?" said Bhed. "They'll know we're here anyway. I've heard some of them can see through walls."

"This one would like to give them the benefit of the doubt," Thrissi hissed. "Particularly when this one knows these are not like the others, the mindless animals who were living underground and eating the flesh of the dead. Now shh."

Then a voice said, "_Thrissi the Luckless." _

Bhed looked around wildly, but it was dark and his helmet limited his peripheral vision. The voice had seemed to come from all around them, directionless.

Thrissi swore. "This one hears you, drinker of blood. Come out where I can kill you."

_I? _Bhed thought. Bhed watched the Khajiit's head turning to and fro. She was muttering something else under her breath. He didn't recognize the words, but the draft of mana rising off her body made the hairs rise along his spine. _That would be one of those spells you don't know._

"_We know who you are, little Manx," _said the voice. It was booming and hollow, certainly male, but indistinguishable as to race. _"Or rather, who you were. Hero of Kvatch." _The speaker sounded faintly amused. _"Entirely forgotten now, are you not? No better than jihaat, hunting vermin through the sewers."_

"Vermin, yes," said Thrissi. Her ears inclined backward and stayed there. "This one finds your voice familiar, loathsome one."

A shape glided forward out of the gloom ahead of them. Bhed was a little surprised to see another Khajiit, clad in a dark robe that was worn to tatters around the hem. He couldn't make out its teeth in the dark (Khajiit tended to have sharp teeth anyway), but the creature's eyes glowed red in a way no Khajiit's should do. The outline of his muzzle was bony and long.

"_Oh, yes," _said the vampire. _"We have met before."_

Thrissi was suddenly very still. This time she didn't even swear, which worried Bhed more than a little. He adjusted his grip again, looking from side to side. This time he saw the other two. It was still dark, but their faces were so white they almost glowed. Both might have been men, once. Now they had the sunken-cheeked and red-eyed look he'd seen down in the cave. Unlike the cave vampires, they were not yet attacking. This, too, was worrying. _It's going to be a lot harder when they've got half a brain. _He stepped slowly back so he could watch both of them. Their unblinking eyes followed him, like wolves watching a particularly large sheep.

"Dro'shanji," Thrissi said. "Yes, this one remembers. You used to tend the garden for the Count of Bravil. What happened to you?"

"_The same fate which befalls all those who are near you for any length of time, my prey," _said Dro'shanji. _"Even the Septim, the chosen of Akatosh._"

"He chose his fate. This one could not have saved him, no," Thrissi said.

"_Nor could you have saved this one. Is that any comfort to you?"  
_

"No," Thrissi said. "It is not."

The vampire laughed. Then all three of them began slowly to close in. The two former humans grinned in unison, baring white, sharp teeth. Bhed called on the only magic he knew. Heat flowed into his veins, and the world suddenly seemed to move a little slower.

One of the vampires took a casual swipe at him with a dagger. Bhed parried, but he felt the impact all the way up his arms, rattling his joints inside his cuirass. He quelled the impulse to take a swing at the creature, but only just barely. It had taken a lot of years to reach the point of knowing when he was going to miss. He could sense movement a lot better in bloodlust, but actually making the mental connection had been nearly impossible to achieve.

The vampire stepped to one side – even now, the movement was almost a blur – and stabbed for the seam of his armor. Bhed smashed his shoulder with the warhammer. The creature staggered back. Then he began to laugh. The joint begin to reshape itself as the bones knit supernaturally fast.

Bhed snarled. He had a vague intimation that something bad was happening, but at the moment that was the most thought he could muster. He felt someone at his back, but even in his altered mental state he could tell it was Thrissi. There was an incongruous rustle of paper.

"Friend Bhed," Thrissi said.

"Aargh," said Bhed.

"This one hopes your resistance to fire is better than mine."

"Whuh?" said Bhed.

Then everything blew up.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Bhed gro-Gamghaz sat up, clutching his head. It took a few seconds of suffering through the relentless pounding sensation for him to realize he was still alive. _'M not good enough for Aetherius, and Oblivion can't possibly smell this much like a sewer. _A couple of seconds after that, he remembered what had happened.

Bhed squinted his eyes open. It was still dark, and it took a few moments for his eyes to adjust. The last flash of light before everything went black had been blinding, but it looked like the spots had faded already. _Been longer than I think it has, then. Just not long enough for the bloodlust hangover to wear off._ Bhed tried to add this up and came up with nothing but a headache. His helmet was still on, but it wasn't quite the right shape. Bhed pried it off and looked at it. The edges were curled and blackened. He contemplated for a moment the probability of his surviving something that could do that to steel plate. _Not too good. _His face hurt more than a little, and he was afraid to touch it and find out why, but he still had both his eyeballs.

He looked around again. He seemed to be in the same tunnel as before, though it was hard to tell down in the sewers. There was no sign of any vampires, and if there had been any dust, it had been scattered by the blast. He did see a pair of bracers lying on the tunnel floor, gleaming gold. They were right next to the inert lump in the black and red armor.

"Aw, crap," Bhed croaked. He got upright by dint of considerable effort – the joints of his armor had been warped, too - and staggered over to kneel by the Khajiit. She was lying on her back, so it was soon clear that she was still breathing. (Extremely clear. Bhed reminded himself muzzily that he was an _Orc _and Thrissi was a _Khajiit._) The fur on her face was visibly singed, and the her flat, wide nose had to have suffered a bad burn, but she didn't seem hurt otherwise. Of course, the armor would hide any broken bones. And she hadn't been wearing a helmet, so she'd probably landed on her head.

"Thrissi?" said Bhed. "What was that, anyway?" He pulled off a gauntlet and felt carefully over her flattish skull. Nothing gave where it shouldn't, but there was definitely a lump. She didn't move. "Thrissi? Come on. I don't know if there's any more vampires."

Thrissi remained stubbornly unconscious. Bhed groaned. He got up and retrieved the bracers, both by way of evidence and in case they might be worth something. He made sure Thrissi's axe was securely attached to her harness again. He drew his warhammer. Then he picked up the Khajiit and slung her over his pauldroned shoulder. She was unsurprisingly heavy.

Bhed gro-Gamgaz sighed, shook his head, and started his long trudge back to the surface.

---

It probably wasn't three days later that he popped a hatch in the Arena district. It just felt like it. He heaved the unconscious Thrissi out onto the grass and climbed up after her.

He'd had to sheathe his warhammer so he could climb and hold onto her at the same time. Consequently, he was totally unprepared when he crawled out onto the grass and found himself nose-to-longsword with a skinny Dunmer in an unpleasantly familiar suit of blue light armor. It had spikes on the fingerless gauntlets and the calves of the sandaled boots.

"Where ya goin', Orc?" said the Dunmer. He was small even for a dark elf, and he'd cut his hair shorter than any mer Bhed gro-Gamghaz had ever seen. The armor didn't do anything for his scrawny legs, but Arena armor was like that.

"Do I know you from somewhere?" said Bhed.

The Dunmer rolled his eyes. "'S what I get for not wearin' the Champion armor everywhere. Sometimes I think gro-Malog was right about th – Oh, no, ya don't." Bhed found the point of the ebony sword at his throat. He lowered his arm carefully. His draw was even slower than usual, with the armor in the state it was in, but he had a feeling the Dunmer would have beat him anyway.

"You're the Black Arrow, right?" Bhed said.

"Brilliant," the Dunmer said. "Must be an Orc under all that char." The sword's point did not waver. He didn't have to hold it up that high, with Bhed still on his knees.

"We were hunting vampires," Bhed said. "I think she used some kind of fire scroll. We need to find a healer."

"Then yer in the wrong district, Serjo," said the Black Arrow. "Temple's south by west from here." He had an odd sort of accent. _Maybe he's from Vvardenfell._

Bhed shrugged. "I needed to get up top as soon as I could. Didn't know if they'd follow us."

"Better think of a better story 'fore you run into any Legionnaires," said the Dunmer. "Nobody's gonna believe an Orc and a Khajiit went hunting together."

"Yeah? I didn't believe a Dunmer could beat the Grey Prince, either," said Bhed.

The Dunmer's features twitched, and Bhed caught a glimpse of anger. There was something else, too. Something like guilt. "Maybe I'll call 'em myself," he said.

"Don't care," Bhed said tiredly. "Long as she gets some help, and soon. She hurt her head and I don't know what else. There wasn't time to check."

"Hm." The Dunmer's crimson eyes narrowed. He couldn't be out of his twenties, but he already had lines gathering at the corners. There were long scars on his biceps, near misses where other swordsmen had aimed for the big arteries there. Arena armor didn't cover as much as steel.

"Dunno if I can carry her all the way to the Temple," Bhed said. "My greaves are pretty bent up."

"See that." The Black Arrow glanced briefly at Thrissi, apparently assessing the state of her armor as well. "And you both been hit by the same spell nimbus. So unless she was real bad at it, she wasn't tryna fight you off."

Bhed snorted. "Not Thrissi. I think she knew what was going to happen when she did it. There were three of them, and they were all faster than me." Even with the haze of bloodlust obscuring his memory, he was sure of that.

"Not too hard," the Black Arrow said. His narrow lip crimped in a faint sneer. "But yer both in pretty bad shape. Wait here."

Bhed blinked. The Dunmer was gone. Bhed edged over to where Thrissi lay and tried to rearrange her more comfortably without touching anything that was likely to get him killed when she woke up. She still showed no sign of stirring. Thrissi did not look particularly angelic while unconscious. She looked slightly suspicious, the way she did all the time.

"I have to be nuts," he said. "_You_ have to be nuts. Why'd we ever go down there to begin with?"

"'S usually for gold," said the Black Arrow. Bhed turned to see him standing on the grass with a bottle in his hand. "Or those idiots in the Order."

"Oh, so you met them," Bhed said. The Black Arrow twitched, and was suddenly kneeling across from him. Bhed told himself that an ordinary Dunmer couldn't possibly be as fast as a vampire. He didn't quite believe it. The Dunmer uncorked the bottle.

"Let me do that," Bhed said.

"You even hold your hand steady?" the Black Arrow said critically.

"Yeah," said Bhed. "And she doesn't like strangers too much."

The Black Arrow watched Bhed struggle with his warped gauntlets. "Waste of time," he said, but he set the bottle on the ground. Bhed's fingers were bleeding when he finally got the gauntlets off. He wiped them on the grass and picked up the bottle.

"What is this?" he said.

"From the basin in the Bloodworks," said the Black Arrow. "Cures anything. Believe me, I oughta know."

"I guess you oughta," Bhed said. He tried some of it on the end of Thrissi's burnt nose. The scorched flesh turned reassuringly pink again. Bhed reached out and parted her mane with one hand, then poured the water over the lump. It subsided under his fingers. "Thrissi?"

The Black Arrow snorted. "Yer an Orc. Dontcha know when to hit somebody?"

Bhed opened his mouth to object, but the Dunmer had already slapped Thrissi across the face. He seemed quite startled to find her hand around his throat. Bhed suddenly recognized the reason for her fingerless gauntlets.

"This one extends her claws and you are a dead mer," Thrissi growled. "Who are you, and what have you done with Bhed gro-Gamghaz?"

"Grk," said the Black Arrow. He probably would have reached for his sword, but Thrissi had yanked him sideways so that his own weight pinned down his scabbard.

"I'm right here," Bhed said. "Since he's the one who gave me this potion, you might want to turn him loose. Nice reflexes, by the way."

"Hmph," Thrissi said. She let go of the Dunmer's throat as she turned to look at Bhed. The Black Arrow looked like he was about to be angry, but he wasn't quite over the shock. "Mara Mother Mild," Thrissi swore. She sat up, then winced.

"Where's it hurt?" Bhed said. "There's more."

"Perhaps you should first use it on your face," Thrissi said.

"It doesn't hurt that much," Bhed said.

"It will soon," Thrissi said. "Give me that." She snatched the potion out of his hand and dashed it in his face. Bhed squinted, suddenly blinded. He shook the water out of his eyes in time to see the Black Arrow glaring at Thrissi. She looked back with no sign of being impressed.

"That was pretty quick, for a fat little Khajiit," said the Dunmer.

"Since this one is apparently in your debt, she refrains from knocking you sideways," Thrissi said. "You should have tended to Bhed's face first. Now he will have the scars forever."

"Is it that bad?" Bhed said. The other two ignored him.

"He was in a hurry to get _you _looked after," said the Dunmer. "An' he's an Orc. What's gonna spoil '_is _looks?" He shot Bhed an indifferent look.

"Mer has a point," Bhed said. The water seemed to have evaporated quickly off his skin. He reached up and poked at one cheek. It didn't hurt, but the skin felt ridged and bumpy under his fingers. Bhed quashed the memory of the last burn scars he'd seen and said, "I wasn't ever gonna look like Kurz, anyhow."

Thrissi turned a withering look on the Black Arrow. "This one would offer to pay you, but seeing as you are the Arena Champion and already making entirely too much gold, this one will refrain. Besides, this one liked Agronak gro-Malog."

"Knew 'im, didja?" said the Black Arrow. "Wasn't a bad Orc. 'E just couldn't take finding out 'is daddy was a sucker."

"And this was an offence worthy of death?" Thrissi said. The Black Arrow shrugged, but he was looking guilty again.

"Somebody's gotta be the Champion," he said. "And he was riding for a fall. Just a matter of time."

"Let him alone, Thrissi," Bhed said. "If it wasn't for him, your head would be even lumpier than it is already." He heaved himself onto his feet, and the others perforce stood up also. "Much obliged to you, Mister. You ever want something and you're in Chorrol…"

"Nah, never get outta here," the Dunmer said. "That's how it works. See ya." And he was gone.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: It may not be lore that only humans can join the Legion in Cyrodiil, but every single Legionnaire in Oblivion is an Imperial. And when gameplay and lore disagree, I get to pick the one I prefer. ;)

Chapter 7

The Orc and the Khajiit limped back toward the gate to the Temple District. People stared at their burnt hair and bent armor.

"There weren't hardly any ashes around," Bhed said eventually. "I picked up some bracers, though."

"Good," Thrissi said. "Then we can prove Dro-shanji is dead. This one would hate for all that to be completely in vain."

"Yeah. Hang on a second." Bhed had spotted a horse trough in front of an inn. He went and leaned over the water, looking for his reflection. It rippled in a faint breeze at first, showing him nothing. Then the wrinkles cleared from the surface and he saw…

Bhed stood there for a long time. His own mother, Arkay rest her, wouldn't recognize him under the crisscross pattern of stretched flesh. After a while another face appeared in the water beside his. He tried to convince himself that it wasn't that bad. He still had a face. It just wasn't the same one any more.

"Bhed gro-Gamghaz?" Thrissi said.

"Bloody flaming Akatosh," said Bhed hoarsely. "That vampire was right, wasn't he."

"Yes," Thrissi said. "This one is not called Luckless for nothing."

"How do you even survive?" Bhed said.

"This one has often wondered," Thrissi said, very quietly. "Always it seems this one sends to Oblivion those who are vastly better than she. This one hoped you were to be the exception." Her provincial accent wavered. "I am so very sorry that I was wrong."

"I'm not dead yet," said Bhed gro-Gamghaz. He tore himself away from the trough and looked down at Thrissi. She was obviously struggling to keep her ears straight.

"You have suffered enough," she said. "Come, let us return to Roland and obtain what you have earned. Then you will be free of this one's company, yes."

Bhed started up the street again as he evaluated silently. He wasn't happy about his face. Not at all. But Thrissi was looking straight at him without flinching. How many people would do that, now? _Even if it is because she thinks all Orcs are ugly anyway. Like the mer said. _So she'd ruined his romantic prospects. _Like I had any anyway._

Besides, Bhed gro-Gamghaz was not an Orc without the ability to feel pity, and he'd never seen a Khajiit look so thoroughly miserable.

"Back to the Order," Bhed said. "You _like_ that Argonian, don't you."

Thrissi's ears flickered. "This one has no idea what you are talking about."

"Grey Throat. He practically propositioned you, last time we were there," Bhed said.

"Nonsense."

"Thrissi, he patted you on the head. Is there anybody anywhere that you would let get away with that? Really?"

"Possibly," she hedged. "Besides, this one has not that set of interests. This one does not know why everyone always assumes that just because Argonians and Khajiit both have tails - "

"Actually, you - " Bhed said.

"This one suggests you consider very carefully what you are about to say, Orc," Thrissi said.

Bhed pulled out his best tone of injured innocence. "Wh - ? Why would I think there's anything wrong with that? Do I care whether people have tails?" He let the ominous pause go on for a few seconds before he said, "Besides, don't they sort of get in the way?"

Thrissi made a very Khajiiti noise of indignation, then coughed. "Big, stupid Orc," she said. But her ears stayed upright all the way back to the Temple District.

Like most housing in the City, the house that held the Order of the Virtuous Blood was sandwiched wall-to-wall between two others. Thrissi went in first.

"Well, that was pretty quick work," said Cylben Dolovas. "What happened to your armor?"

"This one was forced to use a Scroll of Wasting Flame," Thrissi said. Bhed closed the door behind himself just as Dolovas said,

"Gods, and you don't even wear a helmet. You're lucky you didn't burn your face right - " Then he caught side of Bhed. The click of his jaws snapping shut was audible even under his dwarven helmet.

"Helmet didn't do me much good," Bhed said. "Is Jenseric around?"

"He's not back yet," said Dolovas. "Gods, I hate vampires."

"This strikes us as slightly ironic, yes," Thrissi said.

"I don't see why," said Dolovas.

"Psshh," Thrissi said. "This house has no windows. And you wear a helmet all the time, yes. Whenever this one comes here, you stand in this lobby without sleeping or eating. And you lived in this house with Seridur for how long?"

"I don't know what you're implying, woman, but I don't think I like it." The mer's tone of voice solidified the certainty in Bhed's mind. _Yep. He's a Dunmer._

"I'm not sure I know, either," Bhed said.

"This one could just pull your helmet off," Thrissi said thoughtfully. "Of course, if you are what this thinks you are, you are probably too strong and fast for me to succeed. Which would give you away, because not many people are both stronger _and_ faster than this one, particularly in dwarven armor. But if this one did remove your helmet, that, too would give you away. Yes. This one suspects Seridur went out of his way not to pass on any of those master illusionist skills of which you earlier spoke with such conviction."

Cylben Dolovas' face was unreadable behind his visor. He said nothing for a long moment. Then he reached up and carefully removed his helmet. A thin face squinted in the dim light. His ears were pointed, and his eyes were crimson, and he had the peevish cast of feature Bhed associated with Dunmer, but his skin was far too pale to be considered gray. His cheekbones stabbed almost through his skin. Cylben Dolovas might have been a mer once. He obviously wasn't any more.

"Oh," said Bhed gro-Gamghaz.

"Happy now?" Cylben Dolovas said.

"Your hair is sticking up," Thrissi said. Dolovas ran a gauntlet over his stubby black hair, producing a crackle of static and making the problem worse.

"Now, there's the pot calling the kettle black if I ever hear it," he said. "You see why I hate vampires?"

"Actually, no," Bhed said. "I'm kind of stuck on that one."

"I thought I was a paid servant," said Cylben Dolovas bitterly. "Seridur thought I was livestock. I'll be putting this back on, if you don't mind. People open that door at all hours." He stuck the helmet firmly back on his head. "I'm going to make good and sure no one like him gets anywhere near this Order ever again. Man, mer, or vampire."

"Do they know?" Thrissi said.

"Grey Throat does. I'm not sure about Roland," Cylben said. "If he does, he's doing a good job of pretending otherwise. And you know him. He can be oblivious."

"Indeed he can," Thrissi said. "And this one now understands why you did not warn her about Seridur."

"I couldn't," Dolovas said. "That much is true. I'm no magician. I can barely summon my ancestor guardian, and he's been uncooperative recently."

"So if you're a vampire," Bhed said. "Um. What do you…"

"Oh, I _knew _you were going to ask that," Dolovas said. "Mostly I don't, which is why you caught me looking like this. It's humiliating enough without having to explain it to an Orc. Let's just say they leave the door to the Arena Bloodworks unlocked most nights."

"Sorry," Bhed said.

"So am I," said Cylben Dolovas fervently.

Bhed heard the door start to open. He turned to see Roland Jenseric sliding inside with a purse in his hand. The Breton looked at Thrissi first.

"Ah, you're just in time. I knew you could do it. You don't have the creature's bracers, by any chance? I understand they have an enchantment worthy of study."

"The money first," Thrissi said. "Bhed gro-Gamghaz needs new armor."

Jenseric looked at Bhed. He blinked once or twice. To his credit, he didn't say anything. He just handed over the gold. Bhed gave him the bracers. Jenseric held them up to the light, turning each one this way and that. He looked away from the Orc a little too quickly. _Guess I'd better get used to that, _Bhed thought_. Especially from anybody who knows me._

"Excellent," Roland Jenseric pronounced. "Grey Throat will be very pleased to see these, I'm sure. If you'd care to come down and say hello, I'm sure he'd appreciate it."

"Thank you, but this one must decline," Thrissi said. "This one must go and repair her armor."

"But I've still got to count out your half," Bhed said. "Five thousand, remember?"

"There will be no half," Thrissi said. "There is no way this one can possibly compensate you, but at least you may acquit her of that. Goodbye, Bhed gro-Gamghaz." She walked past him and reached for the doorlatch. Bhed laid a bruised and swollen hand on her shoulder. (He was careful to avoid the spiky pauldron, which was presently looking rather bent.)

"Thrissi," he said. "You're not leaving without me."

Her ears twitched. She didn't turn around. "Following this one will kill you," she said. "This one cannot allow that."

"And what do you think'll happen if I don't?" Bhed said. "What kind of job am I going to get, with a face like this? Orcs can't join the Legion in Cyrodiil. And you wanna take a bet on how long I'd last in the Arena?"

"Five minutes," said Cylben Dolovas from behind him. Roland Jenseric shushed him.

"'M not too keen to hang around Chorrol, either," Bhed said. "Too many people know what I used to look like. And I don't know my way around anywhere else. You're all I've got."

Thrissi turned around, very slowly. She looked up. "This one could knock you over and run away," she said. "But that would merely prove your point, yes?"

"Yep," said Bhed gro-Gamghaz. "It would."

Thrissi sighed. This caused considerable movement in outlying regions. Bhed caught himself staring.

"So where'd you get that cuirass?" he said. "Since I need a new one."

"Ah, the shop outside Bravil," Thrissi said. "This one will be happy to show you the way there. After she has finished repairing her armor." Thrissi made a face. "And possibly her spine."

"I know what you mean," said Bhed gro-Gamghaz


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: The House of Philemon is from a mod, like Thrissi's armor and the Manx Khajiit playable race. I've gone from solemnly swearing I would never put my own mods into a fanfic to using every single one. SickleYield is a bad, bad person.

Chapter 8

"I thought we were going to Bravil," said Bhed.

"Upon further consideration, this one does not think this armor would suit you," Thrissi said. "Also an Orc and a Khajiit wearing the same armor are bound to look ridiculous."

"The thought crossed my mind, yeah," Bhed said. "But I had to get all the way here without any armor. I don't think I've slept in a week." He was clad head to toe in traveling leathers, but he felt naked. The two of them stood in the lee of the wall by Anvil's Castle Gate, so named for its proximity to the castle rather than any direct connection. The castle of Anvil was on an island, invisible from their current locale. It probably would've been invisible even without walls in the way. Everything was blanketed by clouds of white mist. _I understand some places have _snow _in winter, _Bhed thought glumly.

"You exaggerate," Thrissi said. "An Orc who is not sleeping could not possibly snore that loudly." Her voice sounded a little muffled, the way things always do in a thick fog.

"I don't snore."

"Ha."

"You, there," said the gate guard. "You lost?"

"This one seeks the House of Philemon," Thrissi said. "This one has not been there in some time and seems to have forgotten the way."

"Philemon," mused the man. He scratched his chin with a mailed fist. "Oh, you mean the armor shop with the… Hm. It's right down the street past the chapel. Next to that mermaid statue in the pond. Can't miss it." He pointed into the billowing fog.

"Thank you," Thrissi said, and started off up the street. Bhed followed her past the massive front of the Chapel of Dibella. Its stained glass windows glowed through the fog. "You should consider a better weapon also," she said.

"Oh, I dunno. I've had this hammer a long time."

"Too long," Thrissi pronounced firmly. "Ah, there it is."

"Those are some interesting plants growing outside," Bhed said. The building looked like most other buildings in Anvil: two stories high and made of grey stone, with colored glass windows. Fat brown vines draped the front portico. Some variety of darkish red grass was growing around the steps.

"They are from Oblivion," Thrissi said.

"They're what?"

"This one is sure she spoke quite clearly. Once we are inside, try not to stare."

"At what?" said Bhed gro-Gamghaz, but Thrissi was already on her way inside. He followed her in and closed the door behind him, blinking in the odd light. It wasn't dark, in fact it was brighter than the foggy day outside, but it was _off _somehow. He realized why as his eyes adjusted. There were balls of fire in various colors scattered around the shop, hovering in the air or sitting on the stainless steel shelves that lined one wall. One very large one sat on the floor back behind the steel counter. They didn't seem to burn what they touched, but they gave a decidedly odd quality to the interior, casting varying glows over the scattering of armor and weapons on all the surfaces.

A slab of stone lay off to one side with someone curled up on it. Bhed noticed that peripherally, because he was busy trying not to stare at the proprietor. He was tall, and he wore velvet-green armor, and he had two smallish horns sticking out of his forehead. His face wasn't bad. Once you got over the blotchy orange-brown complexion.

"Welcome to the House of Philemon," said the Dremora. "It has been some time, Thrissi the Luckless." His voice was very deep and had a very odd echo. Bhed tried to ignore the crawling feeling in his spine.

"Indeed it has, friend Onesimus," Thrissi said. "This one has come back for her mace. Do you still have it?"

"Of course." He reached behind the counter and brought out a weapon of blackened silver metal. Green light gleamed from crannies and details in the head of the mace. It was hard to look at for more than a couple of seconds. "You know I would not sell it to anyone else." Onesimus wore irons on his wrists instead of gauntlets. The metal was greener than verdigris, matching his armor.

"This one will trade you this axe," Thrissi said. She reached back and slid it out of her harness. "Plus a thousand."

"That is not what I would usually ask for the Mace of the Light Freed," said Onesimus.

"Take it," said a breathy voice from the corner. Bhed gro-Gamghaz turned to look at the slab again. A smaller Dremora leaned on one elbow, reclining on the stone. Her robe was purple, her hair was purple, and her skin had a purplish tinge as well.

"Drurinye, this is a matter of - " Onesimus started to say.

"Not business," the other said. "Not for her. Take the offer." Then she rolled over and appeared to go to sleep again.

"Hm." Onesimus eyed Thrissi reluctantly. She smiled a toothy smile.

"And how fares Drurinye the Sleeper these days?" Thrissi said.

"Much the same as always," Onesimus said glumly. "I will accept your offer."

"Don't worry," Thrissi said. "We intend to pay full price for the Armor of the Sleepless."

The Dremora raised his eyebrows. "That is very heavy armor, friend Thrissi."

"It is for Bhed gro-Gamghaz," Thrissi said. "He cannot wear light armor."

"Less that I can't and more that I tend to look pretty stupid in it," Bhed said. "And I'm slow anyway, so it's not like I can't stand the encumbrance."

The Dremora appeared to notice Bhed for the first time. Bhed had always been pretty used to being ignored, in fact he'd counted on it, but you ran into a whole new category of invisibility when you spent much time around Thrissi.

"He is wider than I am," Onesimus said. He gave Bhed's face an indifferent glance and sized up the rest of him. "I will need at least a day."

"One day?" Bhed said. "For a whole suit of armor?"

"We do not discuss our methods," Onesimus said. He smiled, showing jagged yellow teeth. Then he quoted a price. Bhed whistled.

"I'm richer than I've been in my whole life," he said. "And that's most of what I've got."

"In that case, we will also want the Hammer of Endless Day," Thrissi said.

"If the armor takes most of what he has, he cannot possibly afford that," Onesimus said calmly.

The wispy voice floated over from the slab again. "Give him the hammer."

"I suppose some sort of discount could be arranged," Onesimus began, obviously dreading what he knew he was about to hear.

"Give," insisted Drurinye the Sleeper. There was a rustle of garments as she found a presumably more comfortable position on the stone slab.

Onesimus looked pained. "Will you excuse me for one moment?" he said.

"Certainly," Thrissi said magnanimously. Onesimus stamped over to the slab, fell to his knees with a dull _clang, _and seized the purple Dremora by the shoulders. He shook her, not at all gently, until she opened her eyes. He growled something in a guttural language Bhed had never heard. Bhed had a fairly good idea what he was saying anyway: _Woman, we're gonna go broke, you know that?_

The woman responded firmly despite her weak little voice. Again, the tone was clear despite the strange words. _Give the Orc the hammer. _

Onesimus protested. Drurinye's answer was long enough that she started to nod off in the middle of it, and he shook her again. He didn't interrupt her. At the end of it he sighed in exasperation, nodded, and laid her back down on the slab. She turned onto her side and pulled her knees up to her chin. Onesimus stalked back over behind the counter.

"We will _give _you the hammer," he growled. "If you ever tell a living soul about this I will tear out your heart and use it as a paperweight, do you understand? Get out of my sight, and I do not want to see you before tomorrow morning."

"Thanks," Bhed said. Onesimus' response was not in Imperial, so Bhed wasn't quite sure what he said. Thrissi flicked one ear and grinned.

"Very colorful," she said. "Unfortunate, that a Dremora's curse has so little weight in this plane. This one will see you tomorrow, friend Onesimus."

Another curse followed them out into the street.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

"That was weird," Bhed said. He leaned on the bar at the Count's Arms, nursing an ale. Thrissi perched on a stool next to him. All the shadowy corner tables were already taken, mostly by tall men and mer in cloaks. "I thought Dremora were, you know, demons."

"They are," Thrissi said. "How many demons do you suppose actually want to live in Hell?" She reached up and fingered her new mace lovingly. Bhed avoided looking at it. It hurt his eyes.

"Hm."

"You want ale?" the bartender said to Thrissi. Bhed didn't look at him. He could feel the man staring at his face.

"Mead," Thrissi said. The man shot her a look, but he came up with a small bottle and a glass. Thrissi drummed her fingers on the bar as she sipped. Bhed watched one ear twitch.

"So what are we going to do now?" he said.

"This one supposes we can probably obtain rooms here for the night."

"No, I mean after we go back and get the armor," Bhed said. "I assume continuing to be able to eat is a priority for you?"

"The highest, yes," Thrissi said. She grinned. "This one wishes you to have good armor for a reason beyond the goodness of her heart, friend Bhed."

"I thought so," said Bhed, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in his gut. "So what is it this time?"

"This one hopes to meet someone this evening who can tell her more," Thrissi said. "This one supposes you have not heard of the Robe of Rylyeh?"

Bhed frowned. The word seemed familiar. "We gave Modryn Oreyn something with a name like that. The letters of whatsisname."

"Rylyeh," Thrissi said. "He was a sorcerer. The robe is also called the Robe of the Traitor. Rylyeh made it for one who believed he was his friend. It causes the wearer to blend into any background, it can shield vampires from the sun, and Rylyeh claimed it would deflect weapons as well as light armor."

"Claimed," Bhed said.

"Indeed." Thrissi showed her teeth. "In fact the opposite was true. The robe does have a chameleon enchantment, yes. But apparently it gives ingress to any and all weapons without leaving a mark in the cloth itself. This one cannot speak to its efficacy regarding vampires, as it has not been owned by a vampire since the death of Rylyeh's friend. This one cannot imagine what must have happened to him."

"How do you know all that?" Bhed said.

"This one read the letters after she found them in the cave."

"You know we weren't supposed to read those," Bhed said. "It was part of the contract."

"This one is not a member of the Fighter's Guild and was not bound by the contract," Thrissi said smugly. Bhed rolled his eyes.

"And now you want us to steal. Were you in the Thieves Guild, too? How'd you get thrown out of _there_? Did you knee the Gray Fox in the - "

"This one is _not _a thief," Thrissi said.

"I'm pleased to hear it," said a voice. Bhed turned to see a scrawny Imperial in a worn robe standing near the bar. "This isn't work for a thief."

"You are late," Thrissi said.

"I was delayed," the man snapped. He ran nervous fingers through his ragged brown hair. "I have a room. We'll talk there. You can leave your pet ogre down here." He probably intended to say something else, but it was at that point that Thrissi flew off the bar stool and knocked him flat with an elbow to the chest. He sat up, coming as close to a snarl as is possible for a human face.

Bhed became aware of the sound of a large number of weapons being drawn by the cloaked people in the corners.

"Now, then," said the bartender. "You got a problem, you take it outside."

"No problem," the human said. He got up slowly. Thrissi watched him, one ear up and one down. "Just a little misunderstanding."

"This one would not wish you to misunderstand," Thrissi said. She had not drawn a weapon. "This one will be happy to provide you with a detailed description of what will happen to you if you speak of Bhed gro-Gamghaz that way once more. An inability to bear offspring will be the least of your worries."

"It's a small room," the man said.

"This will be a short conversation," Thrissi said. "This one is sure of it." She followed the scrawny Imperial up the stairs. Bhed went after them. He hadn't heard any weapons being sheathed yet. _And the skinny human took that a little too well. One'll get you ten there's somebody in the room, and this's got nothing to do with the Robe of Whatsisname. _Bhed reached up and quietly drew his warhammer.

The human went down the hall and unlocked the very last door. He pushed the door wide open. Then he glared into the room. "You! What are you doing in here?" Thrissi came up behind him, looking around his shoulder (he was too tall for her to look over it). Bhed edged over and peered into the room.

The room had one bed, a dresser, a table, and two chairs. One of the chairs held a tall Nord with one eye. He wore no eyepatch, and the socket was visibly shriveled and lidless. He was wearing ebony armor, and he sat with one hand resting on a short dagger that lay on the table. His hair was blond and long.

"It must be hard for you to throw that with no ability to gauge distances," Thrissi said.

"That's a myth," growled the Nord.

"No, it is not. This one has seen your aim," Thrissi said.

The Nord broke into a grin. He picked up the dagger and drove the blade into the tabletop with a _thunk. _"Hello, Luckless. Been a long time."

"Indeed it has, Towser," Thrissi said. "This one was sure you were dead. Move, you." The skinny Imperial edged into the room, glaring at all present. "What can this one do for you this afternoon?"

Bhed sheathed the warhammer as quietly as he'd drawn it and edged into the doorway. Human-made doorways were always too small, but an Orc got used to that. The Nord gave him one measuring glance and looked back at Thrissi.

"Vorgo the Fearless here has been going around saying he knows where the Robe of Rylyeh is," Towser said. "I paid him two hundred septims for that information last week. I'm here to, ah, remonstrate with him regarding its accuracy."

_Vorgo the _what? thought Bhed.

"Indeed?" Thrissi said. She looked thoughtfully at the Imperial. He avoided the narrowed yellow eyes.

"It was good information," he protested. "I divined it myself."

"Good _old _information, Vorgo," Towser said. "There's been nothing inside that ruin for weeks. Nothing but a couple of very angry ghosts."

"Well, the robe was there," the Imperial called Vorgo said stubbornly. "I can't help it if you got there too late."

"To how many people have you sold this information?" Thrissi said.

"A few," said the Imperial.

"Over how long?" He mumbled something. Thrissi stepped closer to him. "This one did not hear that." The man did not flinch, to his credit. He stared back angrily.

"A couple of months," he said.

"Months," snorted Towser. He rose from his chair, looming over the other two. "The first adventurer you told about it probably sold it for two thousand to a shopkeeper."

"And what were you going to ask for it, friend Towser?" Thrissi said.

"It's one of a kind. Ten thousand. Minimum."

Thrissi chuckled. "It appears neither of us will have that opportunity. Come. I do not think he is worth our trouble."

"Fine by me." He speared the Imperial with his one eye. Vorgo showed no sign of fear. "This runt is going to have enough problems when Verenir the Impaler finds out he's been had. Not many people get a name like Vorgo the Fearless because they're just too stupid to know what's good for them."

"You'll be sorry," Vorgo the Fearless said darkly.

"I'm already sorry," muttered Towser. "Were you going to introduce me to your Orcish friend, Luckless?"

"Orcish friend is Bhed gro-Gamghaz," Thrissi said. "Bhed, this is Towser Shortsight. He and I adventured together for a short while, and believe it or not, he lost the eye before I met him."

"Just Towser," the man said. "The joke gets old. Come on back downstairs, I'll buy you both a drink."

"Sure," Bhed said. He edged back out into the hall and started for the stairs. Vorgo the Fearless slammed the door behind the other two. "So you two were partners?"

"For a couple of months, perhaps," Thrissi said. "We did not suit each other well."

"Now, you were the one who said that," Towser said. "Not me."

"This one prefers partners who say little. Otherwise it is too easy to tell what they are thinking. This one suspects you agree."

"This is a funny streak of diplomacy you're suddenly developing," Towser said. Bhed tried to place the word _diplomacy _in the same mental category as Thrissi and came up with nothing.

"Perhaps this one is growing old, yes," Thrissi said mildly.

"Old at thirty? Ha. Wait 'til you're my age, woman," Towser said. "Ebony armor gets mighty cold in the morning in Frostfall when you're forty-five. I give my knees maybe another three years."

"Tsk," Thrissi said. "Poor old Towser, one foot in the grave. Shall this one help you down the stairs?" Bhed glanced back in time to see Towser swipe at her head with a heavy gauntlet. Thrissi ducked it easily and dealt him a poke in the ribs at the seam of his cuirass. He _oofed _good naturedly.

"Too slow," Thrissi said.

"I'll just get out of the way here," Bhed said, and stepped off the bottom step and almost ran into a tall Imperial in a black cloak.

"Watch where you're going, Orc," snapped the man. He was broad of shoulder and narrow of hip under the cape, and a raffish scar ran from forehead to chin, though the eye in the middle of it seemed inexplicably undamaged. (His eyes were a very vivid green beneath his black hair.) As he turned fully, Bhed saw the hilt of a very large sword belted to his hip. It was highly ornamental, black and twisted and covered with gemstones of red. His fingers were covered with rings, and a heavy amulet of mysterious design hung around his neck.

"Sorry," Bhed said.

"Not as sorry as you will be if you ever again cross paths with Mariso Blackbloodheart the Assassin," the man said. He whipped his cape around his ankles and stalked away. Thrissi paused beside Bhed to stare after him.

"Who is that?" she said.

"Said his name was Blackbloodheart," Bhed said. "Sound familiar?"

"The last person of that name this one encountered was a skinny Breton vampire with unusually large breasts, yes," Thrissi said. "Wearing armor which would not protect her against a mud crab with a butter knife."

"I saw somebody going by that, too," said Towser. "But it was some kind of elf with tattoos. She had funny eyes, too. Purple. Not that I spent much time looking at those, what with the armor and all."

"Best to avoid them," Thrissi said. "Let them once get started talking about their tragic past and they will never shut up, no. After you, friend Bhed."

Bhed wended his way among the tables back to the bar, trying to avoid encountering any more cloaked people. Some of them did have odd eye colors, now that he was looking. "Maybe we should stay somewhere else tonight," he said.

"I know of this house nobody's using," Towser said. There was a gleam in his one blue eye.

"Oh, really?" said Thrissi the Luckless.

Bhed covered his eyes. "Oh, no. Not 'til I have armor again. No empty houses."

"But I've been there plenty of times," Towser said. "It's safe. Really."

"Come along, Bhed," Thrissi said. "This one is sure nothing will go wrong."

"Oh, gods, I'm going to die," said Bhed gro-Gamghaz.


	10. Chapter 10

_A/N:Small liberties taken with layout of Benirus Manor. I personally feel you shouldn't be able to call something a manor unless it has at _least _three bedrooms. Besides, I've always wished for a player house with resident nonhostile ghosts._

Chapter 10

The house _was _empty.

"Huh," said Bhed gro-Gamghaz. He looked around cautiously at the well-furnished living room. There were rugs on the floor and a fire in the fireplace, and paintings on the walls. "Doesn't somebody live here?"

"Someone named Benirus used to," Towser said. He stood with hands on hips, surveying the place contentedly. "Used to be haunted. An adventurer came in and bought it off the owner cheap, then cleaned it all out. Including the lich in the basement. There's still an altar down there. Want to see it?"

"No, thanks," said Bhed gro-Gamghaz. "So you know this adventurer?"

"You could say that." Towser leered. "She lets me stay here when she's not around. Nobody else will come in, what with the haunting and everything, so the door's usually unlocked."

"And the fire?" Thrissi said. She was looking suspiciously at the fireplace.

"Yes. That." Towser scratched his head with a gauntleted hand. "Well, it is still _sort _of haunted."

"Oh, great," said Bhed gro-Gamghaz.

"Not by anything sinister," Towser said. "Just sometimes the fire lights itself, and the beds get made without anybody here to do it. Harmless. You know, excuse my mentioning it, but you seem nervous for an Orc."

Bhed shot him a look. "You would be, too," he said. Both of them looked at Thrissi. She appeared to ignore them.

"This one supposes she will retire early," Thrissi said. "It was rather a long walk from the Imperial City."

"There's a room upstairs with a nice balcony," Towser said. "Bhed, if you'd like there's a bigger bed downstairs. Nowhere near the altar, I promise."

"What about you?" Bhed said.

"There's a bedroom on this level, too," Towser said. He leered again. "And I've slept in it plenty of times. This way if Abda comes home unexpectedly, she won't see anything she hasn't seen before."

"Are you hoping this will occur, Towser?" Thrissi said.

"Luckless, I just spent nigh onto two weeks out in the wilderness seeing nothing but ghosts and bandits. I'm positively praying for it, not that Dibella's listening to me much lately. Come on. Before you turn in, we'll see if our friendly ghost has come up with anything for dinner."

It was a good dinner. By common consent, all three of them went to bed early, but Bhed didn't sleep. It was nice to lie in a bed that wasn't too short or too narrow, but it was far too soft. He'd never slept in one like it that he could remember. He kept getting the sensation that at any second the mattress would close over him and he would suffocate. Further, it wasn't really in a bedroom, though there was a desk and dresser beside it. The little group of furniture sat on a deep red rug in the corner of the stone basement. Only screens divided it from the larger room, so the red and yellow light from the runes on one wall was clearly visible.

Bhed wondered what kind of altar was behind them. This sort of speculation wasn't conducive to slumber, either. So he was still very awake when the ghost arrived.

He'd always supposed that a ghost would announce itself with an eerie moan, or drift slowly through a wall, or possibly the candle would go out (if he'd needed a candle to begin with). Consequently, he just about jumped out of his skin when a glowing blue girl shot through the canvas screen and skidded to a halt.

Bhed jerked upright, scooting backward into the headboard. The ghost folded her arms. She was what he'd once heard a mage call a _fully manifested specter, _not a half-bodied thing like you saw out in the caves and ruins. He could see every detail of her woolen dress and her apron and her long hair. She might be anybody's parlormaid, just into her teens. It just happened he could see right through her.

After a second, when he'd decided his heart wasn't going to stop, Bhed realized she seemed to be trying to speak. No sound came out of her mouth, but her lips were definitely moving.

"I can't hear you, sorry," he said. The ghost threw up her hands. She stamped closer, though this didn't make any sound. Then she tried again. Bhed squinted at her lips.

"The... board... Nord? You mean Towser?" The ghost jerked a thumb upward. "Right. What about him?" The misty lips moved again. "Is... flying? No, trying... to..."

He had no trouble making out the next word. None at all.

"Talos, I _knew _it," Bhed said, and grabbed up his hammer and ran for the stairs.

He was too slow. He burst through the door to the upstairs bedroom in time to see the body hit the floor. Bhed lowered his hammer slowly. He swore.

"Indeed," Thrissi said. The two of them stared down at Towser Shortsight, presently breathing his last. Blood bubbled from his cut throat. Thrissi squatted next to him and wiped her dagger on his shirt. He was wearing black clothes. The ebony armor would have been too bright in the dark, Bhed supposed.

There was a visible dent in the left shoulder of Thrissi's cuirass. She was still wearing her full suit of armor, with boots. "Money wasn't good enough adventuring, was it?" she said. The dying man moved his head to one side, a faint negative. His filmy blue eye followed her. "So you found another guild to join. Sorry this one is that it was you they sent, old friend. Or was that why they sent you? Was I to be your initiation?"

Towser jerked his head up slightly.

"Then this one supposes it is just as well. Too many of the others we knew would not have slept in their armor, you see. Though this one is sorry she has killed you."

If Shortsight had an answer to that, Thrissi and Bhed were destined not to hear it. Bhed stood through the awkward silence that followed. Thrissi's ears were quite flat.

"Sorry," Bhed said. "The ghost warned me, but..." He trailed off as he became aware that, while Thrissi might have slept in her armor, he himself was presently clad only in a loincloth. "I'll get dressed."

He left her kneeling beside the dead Nord and went back down to the basement. The girl ghost still stood inside the screens, in front of the bed. She watched as he tossed the warhammer onto the bed and fumbled around for his clothes.

"It's a good thing you're dead _and_ a different species, or I'd be embarrassed," said Bhed.

The girl's shoulders shook in a silent giggle.

"You must be the friendly ghost he was talking about, right?"

She nodded. Bhed struggled into his trousers and shoes. "So were you a maid here?"

Another nod.

"What happened to you? Anything to do with that lich?"

The girl mimed coughing.

"You were sick?"

Nod. Bhed located his shirt and pulled it over his head. "Why didn't you go to the temple, then?" he said. His head emerged from the collar in time for him to see her shrug. She mouthed two syllables.

"You did," Bhed said. She nodded. "That's pretty weird. Usually they can cure anything."

Another shrug.

"Well, thanks for trying to warn me." The ghost smiled sadly, shaking her head. Then she faded back through the screen and was gone. Bhed reattached his weapons harness and went back upstairs without seeing her again.

Thrissi had not moved. She was still crouched down next to the dead Nord, staring at his face as the pool of blood spread around her boots.

"Less than two months," she said. "Less time than this one has known you, Bhed gro-Gamghaz. And two years pass, and yet still here he is. This one would have thought him among those least likely to join the Dark Brotherhood."

"Heard they look for the unlikely ones," Bhed said gently. "He had to be pretty desperate."

"This one hopes so," Thrissi said.

"I'll go see if I can find that guard," Bhed said.

"Yes," said Thrissi the Luckless. Her ears did not move.

---

From the room's balcony, a pale blue figure watched Bhed gro-Gamgaz jog up the street. The spectral parlormaid was very pale. It was unlikely anyone below could have seen her in the gathering fog and the dark. A moment later, a taller figure stepped out onto the balcony. This, too, was a ghost, but it was a much taller one than she. The maid patted the other specter's back comfortingly as he hung his hooded head.

No living ear could have heard her voice as she spoke to him, but he did. He reached up and pushed his hood back, revealing the long fall of hair that might have been blond if it had any color at all. Even now, he only had one eye.

The two ghosts watched as the Orc disappeared into the fog.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

It was dawn before they were finished talking to the city guards. The body and the soiled rug were taken away. The Imperial who spoke to Bhed seemed skeptical about the ghost, but given the armor Towser had been wearing, he didn't press it.

"I thought the Dark Brotherhood was some kind of big secret," Bhed said.

"Sure they are," the man said, rolling his eyes. He avoided looking directly at Bhed's face. Bhed tried to convince himself he was getting used to it. "A big secret everybody happens to know. All you have to do is walk into a bar and you'll hear someone talk about how to join up. Even I know there's a Sanctuary in Cheydinhal. I heard there's one on the coast here somewhere, too. Probably where the Nord got his marching orders."

"He said this was his initiation," Bhed said.

"Yeah?" said the guard. "You might just be lucky, then. If they'd actually got a contract on your friend the Khajiit... Well, I wouldn't be starting any long conversations, if you take my meaning."

"You know, I heard where Imperials are really glib," Bhed said dryly.

"Glib, hm? That's a pretty smart word, for an Orc," the guard said. "Lay off, I've been awake all night. Somebody took a shot at the Dremoras next door again and we've only just finished cleaning up."

"Really?" Bhed said.

"Yeah. Couple of knights went in there with big fancy claymores planning to clean out the demons, near as we could tell. They're open all night, so the door was unlocked. Guess they cut up the big guy pretty good before the girl blew them all to Oblivion. Had a hard enough time getting that out of her, too."

"I can see where you would," Bhed said.

"Un huh. Well, that's all of it. Try and keep your nose clean, Orc." The Imperial rolled up the sheet of parchment and stuck it in his belt. He tapped the last remaining guard on his shoulder on the way out. A moment later, the man finished talking to Thrissi and followed him.

"Glad that's over," Bhed said. "Guy talked more than he asked. I don't know if we're going to get any armor today, though. Apparently someone attacked the shopkeepers."

"Onesimus' word is his bond," Thrissi said. She rubbed her nose tiredly. "And his are perhaps a duplicitous people, but he is not a duplicitous being. The armor will be there. Come. This one will stay in this house no longer."

Bhed followed her willingly out of the house and down the street to the shop. The red grass beside the steps was trampled down, but it already seemed to be springing back. The door wasn't even splintered as they went inside.

Onesimus was setting things back on a shelf as the door opened. Weapons, armor, and the odd robe or pair of sandals lay scattered among the flaming spheres. None of the balls of fire seemed disarranged. Maybe it wasn't possible. The Dremora turned quickly as they came in, reaching for the weapon on his back.

"It is only Thrissi," Thrissi said.

Onesimus lowered his hand. "So it is. We have had an interesting evening, as you see."

"We heard about it from the watchmen, yes," Thrissi said. Her ears twitched. "Are you all right?"

Onesimus waved a hand. "An inconvenience only. We are not difficult to heal, and Drurinye is quite skilled in her few waking moments. She said that I should greet you. It will not be possible to rouse her for some time now."

"Greet her for this one as well," Thrissi said, looking over at the slab. Bhed glanced that way as well. The other Dremora lay with her back to them, but she seemed none the worse for wear. Her robe wasn't even torn.

"I have your armor ready," Onesimus said. Bhed looked back at him.

"How did you... Never mind."

"Indeed." Onesimus reached behind the counter and began setting things on top of it. Bhed looked at the cuirass, which was a velvety green with details picked out in specks of paler colors.

"Isn't that the same as your armor?"

"It is the Armor of the Sleepless," Thrissi said. "It is better than ebony, if you are able to bear the weight."

Bhed thought about making some comment about any amount of weight being worth it given his current lifestyle risk, but Thrissi's ears still had a tendency to flatten when she thought he wasn't looking. So what he said was, "I'll manage." While he was putting the armor on over his clothes, Onesimus dragged a warhammer out from behind the counter as well. It was along the same luminous green color scheme as Thrissi's mace. _Only bigger. A lot bigger. _

"That's some weapon," Bhed said. He hefted the hammer in both hands. It was definitely heavier than the steel one. He took the old hammer out of his harness before he buckled it back on over the new armor. "I don't suppose you'd want this one, by any chance?"

"Ordinarily I would not even use it to prop the door," Onesimus said. "But Drurinye said she has a use for it." He held out his hand. Bhed gave him the old hammer and hung the new one on his back. Then he attached the helmet to his belt.

"Can you walk?" Thrissi said. Bhed took a few steps. _This cuirass is easily the heaviest thing I've ever worn._

"Sure," he said. "Just don't ask me to dance."

"Orcs cannot dance anyway," Thrissi said. Onesimus snorted.

"Too true," Bhed said. He hated to ask, but it had to be said. "What'll we do now?"

"This one does not know," Thrissi said. "We cannot stay in Anvil. This one would not care to encounter any more old friends."

"Yeah," Bhed said quietly. "Well, I could go to the Fighter's Guild here. Azzan's always got something."

"Fine," Thrissi said. "This one will follow you."

---

Onesimus took the hammer over to the slab after they were gone. He laid it down next to the sleeping Drurinye. "You were right," he said. "It does appear that she knows her own rede."

Drurinye did not answer. Onesimus glanced around to make sure no one could possibly be watching. Then he patted her gently on the shoulder and went back to his work.

---

An hour later, Bhed stood in front of a wooden desk in the Fighter's Guild company office. It was a large room, but the furnishings were plain. Azzan sat behind the desk, tapping his steel gauntlet on the desktop. He was a Redguard of a darkish hue, and Bhed put his age somewhere near Bhed's own. It was always harder to tell with humans.

"You're on my member list," Azzan said eventually, setting down the scroll he'd been reading. "But I don't remember seeing you."

Bhed squelched a wince. "I didn't used to look like this, Sir. It happened a couple of weeks ago. Scroll of Wasting Flame."

"That's the trouble with area effect scrolls," Azzan said, not unsympathetically. "I just about lost my hand to a Sphere of Boiling Frost one time." He shook his head. "I'm afraid I can't really help you, though. Every job on the slate is spoken for except one, and nobody in their right mind would consider that one."

"That... doesn't surprise me, Sir," Bhed said. "What is it?"

"There's a priest of Arkay named Tychicus Varen," Azzan said. "He's been looking for someone to go with him to Anga so he can perform last rites over some other priests who died there last year."

"Last year?" Bhed said. The guild head shrugged.

"The job's been bounced around between guilds a few times. He started out in Bruma, which is quite a bit closer to Anga than we are, but he hasn't found any takers so far."

"How come?" Bhed said.

"Anga's an Ayleid ruin," Azzan said. "But it's full of daedric cultists. Namira worshipers, no less. These four priests went in with nothing but torches and prayers. They evidently never came out."

"Any idea how many of them there are?" Bhed said.

Azzan shrugged. "No one knows. Probably at least a dozen. And it'll be pitch black. If they're really worshiping Namira, they'll have put out every light in the place."

"Right." Bhed rubbed the back of his neck with his new gauntlet. "Where do I find this priest?"

The Redguard stared at him. "You can't be serious. You've barely made Swordsman rank."

"See me laughing, Sir?" Bhed said.

"You look tough enough, friend, but these heretics are _nasty _folk," Azzan said. "It's not like hunting goblins."

"Is it worse than hunting vampires?" Bhed said.

"Nothing is, from what I hear," Azzan said. "Would that be how the incident with the fire scroll happened?"

"Yep," said Bhed.

The Redguard and the Orc looked at each other for a while. Finally Azzan said, "It's your funeral, I guess. If you make it back, it'll be worth a couple of thousand and a bump in rank. And you can keep whatever you find in the ruin, of course. The priest had to agree to that."

"Thanks," Bhed said. "I'll be in touch."

"I doubt it," said Azzan.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

"This priest had better be home, yes," Thrissi said. "This one has done entirely too much walking this month."

"You're not the one wearing the heavy armor," Bhed said. "I'm sure he'll still be at the Chapel. I just wouldn't be surprised if he's changed his mind and forgotten to inform the Guild."

"Then this one will have to discuss with him the irresponsibility of his behavior."

"The last thing we need when we're going after daedra worshipers is to have the Divines mad at us," Bhed said.

Thrissi made a derisive noise that sounded something like _kk-kkt. _"The Divines have no love for this one, Bhed gro-Gamghaz."

There was too much direct evidence for this for Bhed to argue. Besides, snow was starting to fall on the stony ground, and the only thing less comfortable than damp clothing is damp clothing trapped under armor. He looked around for a way to change the subject. "Look, there's the Chapel."

"This one very nearly missed the hundred foot steeple, yes. Thank you so very much," Thrissi said. Bhed sighed. It had been a long walk from Anvil. The only thing that seemed to improve the Khajiit's mood was when they were attacked by bandits, and that had only happened twice. _Barely had time to draw my new hammer on the second one. Don't think I'd've even got to use it yet if one of them hadn't been trying to get away._

The way Thrissi had kept on hacking at the last one after she killed him tended to stick in Bhed's mind, too.

They were halfway up the Chapel steps when the door opened. A stocky Imperial in a brown robe stood on the threshold. His hair was brown. His eyes were brown. His age was impossible to determine. He looked exactly like every other Imperial Bhed had ever seen, except that he was staring out into the snowy glare with open eyes.

"Ah, there you are," he said. "I'm Tychicus Varen. You must be Bhed and Thrissi. Welcome to the Chapel of Talos." His voice, like the rest of him, was aggressively unremarkable.

"Did Azzan send a courier?" Bhed said. He stepped gratefully inside. Thrissi stalked in behind him, saying nothing.

"No," said Tychicus Varen. "I've been expecting you for quite some time. Actually we have a lot to discuss, so if you'd step down to the Undercroft…" He turned and moved briskly off. Bhed followed, trying not to find this ominous. It didn't help that Thrissi was very obviously refraining from muttering anything about crazy priests.

The Undercroft was much darker than the Chapel. The priest didn't seem to notice. He went to rearrange the vase of flowers on the table. Then he pulled out a chair. "Be seated, if you like," he said. Bhed chose the sturdiest seat he could find and made himself more or less comfortable. Tychicus Varen sat across from him, slouching comfortably in the chair. Thrissi stood.

"This one has no time to waste," she said.

"The journey to Anga will be very brief," Varen said. "I've left a marker there, and I can get us back again in an instant. It barely takes any magicka at all."

"You left a marker?" Bhed said. "I thought that was impossible."

"I'm somewhat older than I look. I traveled in Morrowind for a long time," Varen said. "The Mages' Guild there is not completely friendly to priests of the Imperial Cult, but they're reasonable people. I'm more concerned about what will happen when we get there."

"Azzan wasn't sure how many cultists there were," Bhed said.

"I used a detect life spell from outside the ruin," Varen said. "I saw thirteen of the daedra's worshipers there. I cannot rule out any hidden chambers inside, however. My proficiency with the spell would only penetrate one or two walls at a time."

"It is unusual for a priest to have _any _proficiency in Illusion," Thrissi spoke up finally. "Or in the school of Mysticism."

Varen smiled enigmatically. "I wasn't always a priest."

"Can you do Restoration, though?" Bhed said. "If anybody's likely to need it, it's Thrissi and me."

"So I understand," said Tychicus Varen. "If we survive, we will have to do something about that curse."

Bhed tried to decide whether or not he should be shocked. Eventually, he gave up and looked at Thrissi. Her ears stood straight up, quivering. "Curse?" she said.

Tychicus blinked. "You mean no one ever told you? It's really quite obvious; any magus with a reasonable level of ill - "

"Tychicus Varen," Thrissi said. "This one has not, to the best of her knowledge, ever laid hands on a holy person. Do not force her to reconsider."

"Just Varen," the priest said. "Please."

"It might be something to do with the mage you _did _lay hands on," Bhed said. "You know, the time you got thrown out of the guild."

"Listen, Orc - "

"Just saying," Bhed said. Thrissi glared at him, but quickly returned her attention to Tychicus Varen.

"Explain," she said. After a moment's visible effort she added, "Please."

The priest leaned slightly forward in his chair, looking at Thrissi. He still held his eyes wide open. Despite his otherwise pedestrian appearance, or possibly because of it, the effect was eerie. "It is not daedric in origin," he said. "I would recognize that. It was cast by a mortal mage of some considerable power. And it is not new. You have been carrying it for… Perhaps three years?"

"Three years," Thrissi said. "This would fit, yes. It has been about that long since everyone this one knows began dying for no apparent reason."

"You should not blame yourself for the Septims," said Varen. He leaned back again. "Your unfortunate destiny merely intersected theirs. It could not have had any possible effect on events."

"This one cares far less for what occurred to them than what has happened to others," Thrissi said. She looked at Bhed, and her ears flicked back and forward. "Too long the roll of the fallen has grown since the closing of the gates. Who has placed this curse? Can you see that as well?"

Varen shook his head slightly. "I can see his face," he said. "An Altmer of no certain age. But not a name. I thought surely you must know."

"All of this one's deadly enemies are more recent," Thrissi said, frowning. "At the time you speak of this one could hardly have done anything to warrant a curse so powerful no Temple blessing has ever cured it. Before this one stopped seeking that avenue of assistance, that is."

"A shame," Tychicus Varen said. "Again, if I should return from Anga, I would be happy to help you research it further."

"And what do you think the odds of that happening are?" Bhed said.

"Better than you suppose, my friend," Tychicus said calmly. "As I said, the curse is not daedric. I knew all four of those who lie in Anga. At least one of them has done me a kindness in the past. The circle is open between us. It must be closed."

"Why does it matter that it's not a daedric curse?" Bhed said.

"Never mind," Thrissi waved a hand irritably. "The foolish priest will not live long enough to realize the error of his ways, but it will not be due to any neglect on this one's part. Come, Tychicus Varen. We must be on our way."

"Very well," said Varen. He stood up. "You may wish to draw your weapons. We will arrive near the door."

Bhed unlimbered his warhammer. Thrissi drew her mace. The green light on the blade seemed to glow brighter as she adjusted her grip.

"What about you?" Bhed said.

"I require no weapon. Arkay is with me," Tychicus said. Thrissi shot him a look as he raised one hand, but the shower of pink sparks cut off any comment she might have made.

Bhed looked around. The Undercroft was gone, and they were out in the glaring snowfall again. Now they stood in front of a door made of white stone. As Bhed watched, it began to swing slowly open. Tychicus whispered something else, and a light sprung up around his body. Unlike most light spells Bhed had seen, it seemed more blue than green.

"This one will go first," Thrissi said, and stepped silently inside.

"I'm sure I don't have to warn you to be alert," Tychicus said. "Namirans hate the light."

"So why are you doing that?" Bhed said.

"Because the light must be carried. There is also the fact that I cannot see in the dark."

"Yeah, me neither," said Bhed. He stepped into the dark hole. The door slid shut behind him, apparently on its own. The pale blue glow lit the walls, which seemed rather close on either side. A terrible stench of filth and unwashed bodies rose up from below. "Eugh."

"Namirans," Tychicus said.

"This one sees them," said Thrissi's voice. Bhed couldn't see her around the stocky priest. "Bhed, stay with the holy man."

"But - " Bhed said, and then he heard her springing down the steps two and three at a time. She didn't seem to be making any attempt at stealth. "Oh, Oblivion."

"Not yet," said the priest, and started down after her. Bhed grabbed his arm.

"Better wait here. She wasn't kidding."

"Nor am I," said Tychicus Varen. He shrugged off Bhed's grip with unexpected ease and started down the stairs. Bhed groaned silently and ran to keep up. The blue light sprang out and was lost as the stairs gave way to a large room whose ceiling could not be seen. Human men and women in rags slunk in from the edges of the room. Some of them were almost naked, but the grime smeared on their bodies made it hard to tell. Greasy hair hung down to their shoulders. Most of them were carrying wooden clubs.

Thrissi the Luckless stood in the middle of the shrinking circle, mace in both hands. She had no tail to lash, but her ears were so tight to her skull that they were invisible.

"Thrissi!" Bhed called. 

"This one said _wait,_" Thrissi said, and then the filthy crowd rushed in.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Thrissi's first swing knocked two humans sideways into another one, and she stepped into the space thus cleared just in time to avoid a club with a nail in it. The club intersected another Namiran instead. The human's scream was high and shrill, jarring in the otherwise nearly silent room. The other cultists made no sound.

Then a man-thing on the edge of the crowd looked up at the stairwell and saw the light.

"Scuse me," Bhed said, and stepped around the priest and down a couple of steps. The warhammer coming down met the Namiran coming up with predictable results. The broken body tumbled back down the stairs. Another human – Bhed guessed tentatively that this one was female; they were all so scrawny that it was hard to tell - hopped awkwardly over it and started up.

"You know," Bhed said, taking a swing at the human. He missed. Her club smacked into his ribs, but it shattered on the green armor. "I think there's more than thirteen of them." He swung again, and this time he connected with her head. She folded without a sound. The corpse knocked down two more Namirans on its way down the stairs.

"Yes," said Tychicus Varen's voice behind him. The man sounded serious, but he didn't seem particularly afraid. "Either their numbers have grown, or many of them were hiding."

"At least they're slower than vampires." Bhed was more or less wading down the stairs now, knocking unwashed bodies left and right.

"Oh, yes," said Varen. "To one who is armed, armored, and trained, they are not so very formidable."

"Not trained, exactly," Bhed said. He swept the hammer again. This time most of them got out of the way. A few more clubs impacted on his arms and shoulders, but he twisted hard sideways and sent their owners flying. He'd lost sight of Thrissi.

"I'm actually rather surprised you can still speak," Varen said. Bhed heard a thud and an _oof _from behind him. He braced himself just before the body hit him in the back of the knees.

"Sorry," said Varen's voice.

"My bad, I shouldn't've let him get by me," Bhed said. "And I'm off bloodlust for a while, after what happened last time. Get _off _me, you little freaks!" He kicked violently, dislodging another Namiran. "I thought they couldn't stand light!"

"I'm afraid I have not the same power to repel them as my brethren," Varen said. Bhed kept fighting his way down the stairs, trying to watch out for attacks aimed at his head and neck. Most of the Namirans were too short to reach that high, especially as hunched and cramped up as they seemed to be. The blue light followed him. Somewhere ahead and to the left, he heard a _crack _and another brief shriek. It echoed off the high ceiling.

"I don't believe my original plan is going to work," said Tychicus Varen's voice.

"Really?" said Bhed. A larger man grabbed at his right arm. He was in too close for the hammer's head. Bhed brought the weapon around in a short arc and clotheslined him with the handle. He fell back, making the awful sound that only a collapsed trachea can produce.

"In which case, I apologize for what I am about to do," the priest said.

"Why, what are - " Bhed said, and then a massive wavefront of green spell effect shot past, over, and through him. The expanding sphere filled the whole room, lighting up its cobwebbed corners.

It flickered out about the same time Bhed realized he couldn't move his arms or legs. He toppled stiffly sideways. He couldn't even wince, because his facial muscles were as paralyzed as the rest of him. He hit the stone floor on his side with a tremendous clatter, and then four or five Humans landed on top of him, one after the other. The sound of other bodies impacting the stone floor rang out all around.

"Tsk," said Tychicus Varen. Bhed heard him tramp past, shuffling among the crowd of fallen humans. "Now where was… Ah, there you are." There was a faint _fizz _of mana, and then Thrissi's voice said,

"This one is now convinced. You are insane."

"I suggest you save your breath and take advantage of the situation while you may," Varen said. "They will be getting up in a couple of minutes." A moment later the blue net of a dispel hit Bhed directly in the eyeballs, and he was blind for a good few seconds after that. He heaved himself into a sitting position, shoving inert Namirans off. The smell was even worse up close.

"How did you do that?" Bhed said.

"Never mind," said Tychicus Varen. "I know my way from here. Follow me."

Bhed struggled upright. "You all right, Thrissi?"

"This one will live," Thrissi said. "Though she is rapidly changing her mind regarding violence toward the clergy."

"It was smarter than _your _plan," Bhed said. He walked quickly to catch up with Tychicus, who was disappearing into a side passage. Thrissi kept pace easily, her mace up on one shoulder. "You know, the one where you got killed and we had to run away."

They were catching up with Varen, so there was enough light for him to see her ears twitch. "This one did not believe she was that obvious."

Bhed looked down at her and sighed. "I told you," he said. "You're not leaving without me."

"So it appears," Thrissi said, and stopped. Tychicus Varen was kneeling in the corridor beside a skeleton in a tattered robe. A torch lay nearby, but it didn't seem to have burnt out. Varen spoke in a language Bhed didn't know, sprinkling something from a vial over the body. The bones crumbled slowly into dust.

"Let the light be carried and the circle be closed," Varen said quietly, and got up and moved on. The other two followed him on to the next body, a few feet further on. This one also lay near an unburnt torch.

"That was Brother Iridir, so this would be Raius. They were never far apart," Varen said. He knelt down and performed the rite again. Bhed, listening uneasily, thought he heard something rustle off in the distance. He glanced at Thrissi. She was staring back the way they had come.

When Varen moved on again, the others were on his heels. They found the third skeleton just inside the wrought iron door to another chamber. Apparently he'd tried to hide inside, but the Namirans had pried it open. Bhed, looking this time, saw the torch lying half under his body.

"The lights were put out," Thrissi whispered. Bhed nodded. He didn't think Varen had heard, but as the priest stood up he said,

"I've already dealt with Namira's agent in this matter. He won't trouble us." He went on down the hall without further explanation. The fourth skeleton was only a few yards further. It was facedown, as if the unknown priest has been trying to run away. Footsteps were definitely audible as Varen performed the rite this time, but no one seemed to be running.

Bhed risked a look inside a coffer that sat in the lee of a wall. It held a few coins, a lockpick, and a ring. He pocketed the lot for later examination. Varen finished the rite and stood up. His face seemed much older in the blue light that never went out.

"Come," he said. "I'll take us back to the marker."

The pink sparks fell again. When they cleared, all three stood outside the ruin's door.

"You have no marker in Bruma?" Thrissi said.

"I can only place one," said Tychicus Varen. "We had better start walking. I don't believe Namira's children will leave the ruin, but night will be here soon." He turned unerringly toward the Southwest and began walking again. His brown robe wasn't even rumpled.

"You are no holy man," Thrissi said. She did not sheathe her mace, so Bhed kept his warhammer in hand as they walked.

"I've been ordained these ten years," Tychicus said.

"This one means that you are not human," Thrissi said.

"Huh?" said Bhed.

Tychicus Varen glanced sideways at the Khajiit. He smiled. "Yes, that last spell rather gave it away, didn't it?"

"Your magicka does not appear to run out," Thrissi said. "No human can regenerate that quickly and cast spells at that level."

"Oh, one or two can," said Tychicus Varen. "But you're correct in that I am not one of them. Since I've sworn off the School of Destruction and am never seen to cast anything involving ice, most people never think to question why my light is the wrong color."

"So what are you, exactly?" Bhed said.

"He is an atronach," said Thrissi. "An ice demon. And a very old one, if this one is not mistaken. This one has fought many daedra in Oblivion and out of it, he-who-is-not-Tychicus-Varen. They were always the same shape."

"It takes us some time to learn to control our form," Tychicus agreed mildly. "But it can be done."

"And you're a priest of _Arkay?"_ Bhed said.

"We serve whom we choose, friend Bhed. Neither aedra nor daedra may claim us unless we claim them also. The closing of circles appeals to me. And I knew a Tychicus Varen once. He, too, was a priest of Arkay. He was a generous man. I think he would not have minded my borrowing his name when I have none of my own."

"Others must have known this," Thrissi said.

"Once or twice," said Varen. He let the blue light fade as they moved out of sight of the ruin. "I've traveled quite a lot in this plane. Brother Raius knew, I think. But he never spoke of it. You may do as you choose, of course. I mean no harm to any who does me none."

"That's not a very priestly thing to say," Bhed said.

Tychicus Varen shrugged. "In my own terms, I have not been a priest for very long. Perhaps I will be a better servant a hundred years from now."

"In that case, this one suggests you make the attempt to blink more often," said Thrissi the Luckless.


	14. Chapter 14

_Dree and Gogron were last seen in Tales from Cyrodiil: A Dark Beginning._

Chapter 14

"And what must I do to be rid of this curse?" Thrissi said. The three of them sat around the table in the Undercroft. The few other tables were occupied by the scant clergy of the town as they ate dinner. One or two greeted Tychicus Varen on their way past, but no one seemed eager to sit with him. Bhed noticed they didn't seem surprised to see him talking to an Orc and a Khajiit.

"You must find the one who placed it," said Tychicus. "If no temple blessing has cured you, it is probable that only he can lift it. His death probably would remove it as well, but as a servant of Arkay I cannot advocate that." He took a sip of his glass of small beer.

"This one understands," Thrissi said. She smiled, showing her sharp canines. "Can you tell her nothing more about him?"

"Clairvoyance is an uncertain skill at the best of times," Varen said. "And the most effective tools of divination are both forbidden and repulsive to me. If the curse is bound to him, its radius is limited. Have you left Cyrodiil in the last three years?"

"No," Thrissi said. "This one has lived here since she was small. Such family as she had lived and died in Leyawiin."

Bhed glanced at her in surprise, but the set of her narrow jaw did not invite further questions.

"Then he is certainly in the province," Tychicus said. "I'm afraid that's all I can tell you."

"Then this one will simply have to retrace her steps," Thrissi said. "Any hope is better than none. Thank you, Tychicus Varen."

The plain man shook his head. "Just Varen. Blessings of Arkay upon you."

As they stepped out the doors of the Chapel of Talos Bhed asked, "Were you serious?"

"About what?" Thrissi said.

"Any hope being better than none. Because I'd rather not see you do anything as stupid as you did in Anga again."

"You exaggerate. This one could have fought her way free of them without your help or the false human's."

"Maybe," Bhed said.

"This is a peculiar attitude in you, Bhed gro-Gamghaz," Thrissi said. She looked at him sideways. "Or have you changed your mind about Khajiit in general?"

"I'm still not a pervert, if that's what you're asking," Bhed said. He watched her ears slide down a notch. "What, don't tell me you're disappointed."

"No, merely confused," Thrissi said frankly. "Everywhere this one goes, you now follow. It cannot be for the money, because you have seen almost no net gain - "

"I'm wearing better armor than I've ever had," Bhed pointed out.

"Yes, but you have nothing to show for it. And it cannot be for this one's company, because every time we accomplish any task you come closer to being killed. Which end, by the way, is inevitable given that this one is not only luckless but under a curse," Thrissi said. "This one does not see how you could even have forgiven her for what has happened to your face."

"Be honest with you, I'm not sure I have," Bhed said. "But that doesn't change anything. Maybe there are Orcs who can write books, and cast spells, and talk a fine line like any Imperial ever born. But I'm not one of them. There's pretty much only one thing I know how to do, and up 'til we met I wasn't very good at it. I'd never have joined the Fighters' Guild to begin with, except my older brother got the farm when my old Dad finally gave up the ghost." He shrugged his shoulders under the weight of the Hammer of Endless Day. "I couldn't've picked this thing up six months ago. And I'd have been ploughed under in three seconds in Anga."

"You will have gained a Guild rank, when we arrive in Anvil," Thrissi said. "Perhaps you should consider putting what you have gained to better use elsewhere."

Bhed frowned at her, but she was looking away. _She's been doing that an awful lot lately._

"You know," he said. "I could get the idea you're trying to get rid of me."

Thrissi rounded on him, yellow eyes glaring. "This one has been trying to get that through your thick skull for _weeks_," she said. "This one has a task ahead which she may or may not survive. This one needs no encumbrances."

Bhed raised one heavy eyebrow. "Then don't go back to Anvil. Nobody's making you."

Thrissi opened her mouth. She closed it. Then she said something that was not quite audible.

"What was that?" Bhed said.

"This one must speak with Drurinye the Sleeper again," Thrissi said.

"Oh, is that _so,_" Bhed said. "Then shut up and start walking. It's a long way to Anvil."

"Fine," Thrissi said, and marched off toward the front gate. Bhed shook his head and went after her. It wasn't hard. Even in heavy armor, his strides were longer than hers.

"Cheer up," he said. "We'll probably run into more bandits for you to maim."

"Shut up, Orc."

"Whatever you say."

But they didn't, at least for a while. They took the same route back to Anvil that they'd taken getting to Bruma, so most of the bandits were already dead. They were halfway across the West Weald, wading through the tall grass, when they spotted a tent.

"Stendarr," said Bhed. He stopped, causing frosted grass to slap against his calves. "That was quick work. It was only a week ago we came through here last."

"It does not matter," Thrissi said. She drew her mace and started toward the encampment.

"Easy," Bhed said. "They could just be travelers."

"Nonsense. No traveler in his right mind would set up right next to the road in plain view, no. Begging to be robbed."

"So they could be dumb," Bhed said. "Some people are."

"This one is sure you would know, Orc."

"Look, just because we're splitting up in Anvil is no reason for you to stop using my n - "

Then the road curved slightly and they came into view of the other tent. It had collapsed on top of someone; a pair of dwarven-armored feet stuck out at one end. There were a couple of bandits lying around, too. At least, Bhed guessed it was a couple. He only counted two heads.

"Looks like somebody beat you to it," Bhed said. "Good thing it's winter."

"Indeed," Thrissi said. "The smell is bad enough as it is." She didn't slow down.

"What are you doing?"

"Seeing if whoever that is is still alive."

"Then maybe you ought to put away the mace," Bhed said.

"Good idea," rasped a third voice. Bhed jerked around to see a hooded and cloaked person holding a knife point to the back of Thrissi's skull. The hand on the knife was gloved, and the hood was carefully pulled forward, but given that the unknown person was even shorter than Thrissi Bhed guessed it was a Bosmer. He could see hairs bristling down Thrissi's neck, but she stood still for the moment.

The cloak was a shifting gray-brown color, hard to focus on. _It's a chameleon effect. So I know why I didn't see her. And Thrissi probably couldn't smell her over the bodies._

"So the large one missed someone," Thrissi said. She held the mace carefully out to one side, but she didn't drop it.

"Uh, Thrissi," Bhed said. "I don't think that's a bandit."

"Then he would not be holding a knife on this one when this one trying to render aid to the injured," growled Thrissi.

"I also don't think it's a man," Bhed said. "At least, I've never seen a man that short."

"Oh, _good_," said the stranger. The voice didn't give much away; it was nearly as rough as Thrissi's. "Look, he really doesn't need your help, all right? You just stay right here and I'll prove it to you."

"This one will be watching you," Thrissi said.

"Sure. Fine. Do that." The stranger slid gracefully out of reach before she went around Thrissi. She went over to the fallen tent as she sheathed her dagger.

"Stupid melodramatic Elves," Thrissi said.

"She knew which one of us was more dangerous," Bhed said. "Why d'you think she pulled the knife on _you?"_

"'Cause of the way she walks," said the Elf. She seized a handful of canvas and tugged it backward, revealing more of the prone armored person. Bhed experienced a moment's disorientation. Whoever it was, he couldn't be _that _big. It must just be because the Bosmer was so small. She knelt next to the other person and shook his pauldroned shoulder with a gloved fist. "Come on. We haven't got time."

A basso groan emanated from behind the visor. A gauntleted hand reached up and fumbled the helmet off, revealing an Orc with a wide, square face. He was better looking than Bhed, but that wasn't saying much lately. One of his tusks was chipped at the end.

"Huh?" said the other Orc, looking around. "Oh. Right." He sat up slowly. Then he caught sight of Thrissi and Bhed. He looked at the Elf.

"They were passing by and thought I was one of the bandits," she said.

The Orc snorted. "That's a good one," he said. He lumbered upright, shaking his head. Bhed stared. _Gods. He really _is _that big. _

"Seen my axe?" said the giant Orc.

"You never let go of it," the Elf said.

"Hm." he hefted the gory weapon in his other hand. "So we did get them all?"

"All four," said the Bosmer. "I left the others over there." She gestured vaguely South.

"Must have a pretty good hangover," Bhed said. "I don't get that much mileage, personally."

"Huh? Oh. Yeah. Bloodlust," said the other Orc. "That's what it was."

"Then this one will be moving on," Thrissi said. "Unless the small Bosmer would like to try and repeat the trick with the knife."

"Not me," said the Bosmer. "I was just looking out for my friend here."

"Come on, Thrissi," Bhed said. "We don't have time, either."

"Right." Thrissi said. The two of them started up the road again.

---

The Bosmer watched them go from under her hood. "Whew," she said quietly. "For a second I was afraid she'd noticed. I guess the stench covered it up."

"You all right, Dree?" said the Orc.

"Fine. One of them nicked me, but it's practically healed up already. Not even a hole in the robe. But then, this robe is weird like that."

"Good value for money," said Gogron gro-Bolmog. "Especially with the sun protection thing."

"Un huh," said the vampire Dree.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Azzan looked up as Bhed entered the company office. Morning sun streamed in through the tinted glass window, picking out gray threads in his kinked black hair. "Couldn't find the priest?" he said.

"Nope, we found him," Bhed said. He removed a roll of parchment from his belt and set it on the desk. "He said I should give this to you, Sir."

"We?" The Redguard picked up the scroll, unrolled it, and began to read. Bhed was curious as to what it said, but he wasn't particularly eager for Azzan to know he couldn't read, either. He waited. "Thrissi the Luckless?" Azzan said eventually. "That sounds familiar. Where have I heard…"

"She used to be the Hero of Kvatch," Bhed said.

"Actually I was thinking more of the way I threw her out of the Guild," Azzan said.

"Oh," Bhed said. "I didn't know that was here."

"She didn't even make it to Defender," Azzan said. "Let one of the new recruits pick a fight with her and she killed him. The only reason she didn't go to prison was that he started it, and he was twice her size. We can't have infighting in the Guild."

"I know," Bhed said.

Azzan looked at him narrowly. "You'd better be careful if you're going to be spending much time around Luckless. A man could get himself killed that way."

"So I hear," Bhed said.

"Hm. Well, here's your two thousand." Azzan plunked a bag of coins down on the desktop. "Bhed gro-Gamghaz, you are now a Protector in the Fighters' Guild. Go hurt something. Preferably something that belongs to some _other _guild."

"Yessir," Bhed said, and collected the gold and beat a hasty retreat. He went down the stairs, through the dining hall, and down more stairs to the main floor of the guildhall. Thrissi was waiting in the practice room by the front door, pacing. One or two guildmembers were practicing on the mats, including one very large Khajiit in linen pants who was pounding the wooden dummy with his bare knuckles. His ears were notched, and the end of his muzzle was crooked. A broken nose is a serious thing, when it comes to a Khajiit's looks. A few scars crossed the brown and tawny spots on his chest fur, but he'd apparently managed to avoid any deeper injury.

He was concentrating hard enough that his tail was almost still, and he and Thrissi seemed to be ignoring each other. Bhed breathed a sigh of relief. It shouldn't have been audible over the sound of fists hitting wood, but Thrissi turned to look.

"I got the gold," Bhed said. "Don't take off before I count it out, huh?"

"Be quick," Thrissi said. "This one has places to go."

"I don't see what your hurry is. It's been three years, what's one more - " Bhed stopped. It wasn't so surprising that Thrissi had hold of the collar edge of his cuirass, although it was giving him a kink in his neck. It was more the fact that he hadn't seen her move.

"This one has waited too long," she hissed. "Blood under the bridge, yesss. Count the money, Orc."

Bhed looked her in the eyes. They were darkly rimmed and slightly bloodshot. "Thrissi," he said. "You'll do whatever you like. I can't stop you. But you owe me just a little bit. You use my name."

She let go abruptly. "Then do it, Bhed gro-Gamghaz."

Bhed straightened up and went to sit on one of the cushions around the edge of the room. He started counting. From the corner of his eye, he saw Thrissi go back to pacing again.

"Your associate has quite a temper," said a voice. Bhed looked up. The Khajiit with the broken nose was sitting a couple of cushions down, drinking from a pewter mug. His shoulders heaved as he breathed. The end of his tail curled around his ankles.

"You don't know the half of it, friend," Bhed said. "Whatever you do, don't ask her what happened to the tail."

The Khajiit flicked an ear. "This one knows Manx when he sees it, yes. This homely one is Ba'jjon. Who are you?"

"Bhed gro-Gamghaz," Bhed said. "Pleased to meet you." He counted out a few more coins. At first he thought the Khajiit was going to leave. Then Ba'jjon set the mug down and turned to watch Thrissi pacing in her dark armor. Then he turned to look at Bhed again. Eventually he said,

"The Manx one is named Thrissi?"

"Don't even think about it," Bhed said. "She doesn't like Orcs, but she really _really _doesn't like other Khajiit."

"This one was merely curious as to whether she is, in fact, the one they used to call the H - "

"Yep," Bhed said. "That's her."

Ba'jjon's ears flickered again. "This one lost family when the gates opened, yes, and was nearly dragged inside one before they closed. This one would do her a service if possible."

Bhed looked at him. He'd gotten fairly good at reading Khajiit expressions in the last few months. By the set of Ba'jjon's crooked jaw, he was very serious indeed.

"I'll be honest with you," Bhed said. "I don't know if you can. She and I are splitting up as soon as I finish counting out her share. She's under this curse, and she thinks she can find the mer who cast it, and she doesn't want me tagging along."

"And you consider yourself a friend to this Manx?" Ba'jjon said.

"Yeah," Bhed said. "I do."

"Then you will not let her go alone. It is very simple," Ba'jjon said firmly. "This one can see she is not thinking clearly as she ought."

Bhed shrugged his pauldroned shoulders. "I don't know if I can stop her. I'm pretty slow, and you saw the way she moves in light armor."

"This one saw, yes," Ba'jjon said. "And such armor it is! But were it this one's friend in question, he would find a way. Good day to you, Bhed gro-Gamghaz." The Khajiit flicked his ears and rose easily from the cushion. Bhed went on counting, but he watched from the corner of his eye. Ba'jjon crossed the practice mat and went up the guildhall's stairs without looking at Thrissi again. He had the light step that comes from fresh air, healthy exercise, and knowing deep inside that your calf muscles are like piano wire.

Bhed shoveled half the coins into his own purse and restored the others to the bag Azzan had given him. He got up carefully and went to offer it to Thrissi. She took it without looking at it.

"You're going to the House of Philemon next, right?" Bhed said. "Mind if I tag along just that far? I want to ask the big Dremora something."

"This one supposes so," Thrissi said grudgingly. Bhed followed her out into the street. He thought frantically as they walked, trying to come up with an excuse that would convince her. _Rational argument probably won't work, even if I was any good at it. Besides, she's right that I'd probably slow her down. And I'm lousy at sneaking, even in lighter boots than these, so it's not like I can follow her. _

The air was cold and salty, and Anvil wasn't quite fogged in again yet. Bhed could see most of the way up the street before the mist closed in. He swore silently when he saw the mermaid statue in the pond. Dragging his feet wouldn't work, either; he was already having to speed up to match Thrissi's impatient step.

Bhed shook his head and followed the Khajiit into the shop once more.

Onesimus stood behind the counter, exactly as he had the first time Bhed saw him. The shop was once again immaculate. The shelves were cluttered, but in a very deliberate look-how-much-merchandise-we-have sort of way. And the purple Dremora was sitting up on the edge of the slab, heavy-eyed but upright.

"So you return to us again," Onesimus said. "Welcome."

"This one has lately learned she is under a curse," Thrissi said. "This one is curious as to why you did not tell her."

Onesimus raised his black eyebrows. "We thought you knew," he said.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

"I, at least, supposed that was why you came back for the mace," said Onesimus.

"Three _years_," Thrissi said. "Three years it has gone on, and this one could have stopped it. This one might have saved Towser Shortsight, and Dro'shanji, and so very many others." She turned to look at Drurinye the Sleeper. "Tell this one where she may find the mer who has done this thing. This one is sure you know."

"I did not know when you were last here," Drurinye said. "But I knew you would be back."

"Then speak," Thrissi said shortly. Behind her, Onesimus set both hands on the countertop and leaned forward, frowning.

"He lives in a tower far to the east of Bravil," Drurinye said. "But it is in that city that you must inquire." She paused, lashes fluttering. It was obvious that Thrissi held herself still only with difficulty. This made Bhed more than a little nervous, given how closely Onesimus was watching her.

"His name is Poridir," Drurinye said. "And the curses he knows are many. You will need this." She nudged something away from herself with a limp hand. It scraped on the stone slab. Thrissi stepped forward and picked up an amulet. It seemed to be made of coarse iron, a plain circle on a plain chain.

"What is this?" Thrissi said.

"It is the Icon of Clarity," Drurinye said. "Made from the weapon of one who has defended you." She looked up at Bhed. "You will have to use the thing you found in Anga."

"What?" Bhed said. "Oh." He rummaged in his belt pouch until he found the ring. He'd never taken time to look at it closely. It was a band made of ebony, and it looked just about the right size. That was unusual. It wasn't often rings fit Bhed without being made to order, and he'd never been able to afford that.

"Do not put it on," Onesimus said. "This room is as dark as I ever want it to be."

"What?" Bhed said.

Drurinye started to slump sideways. She caught herself with one hand. "On any finger but your first, it does nothing," she said. "On that finger, it will produce a great darkness. You will need it."

"A ring of darkness?" Bhed said. "Okay. If you say so." He pulled off one gauntlet and stuck the ring on his right third finger. Nothing happened. He put the gauntlet back on. Drurinye the Sleeper nodded once, then slid over onto her side. Her eyes closed.

"But what does this do?" Thrissi said. She was still holding up the ugly amulet, frowning.

"Put it on, and go away," Onesimus said. He crossed the room, knelt, and lifted Drurinye's dangling feet onto the slab. "We were attacked after the last time you came here. Free yourself from the curse, and then return. Bhed gro-Gamghaz will see that you succeed."

Thrissi put the amulet on. "Bhed gro-Gamghaz is not coming."

Onesimus stood up. He moved more easily in the Armor of the Sleepless than Bhed did. Bhed reminded himself to avoid fighting Dremoras if at all possible. "Do not be a fool, Thrissi the Luckless. Your survival hinges on his presence. If you die accursed, you will never leave this plane. You will be trapped forever as a phantom."

"Can't have that," Bhed said. "I guess I'd better go with you."

"But what about _your _survival?" Thrissi demanded.

"Don't look at me," Bhed said. "I'm not the one who sees the future."

"His fate is not certain," Onesimus said. "No more than is mine, or Drurinye's, or the great majority of those who walk in Nirn. With that you must be content. Now go."

"Tell her we said thanks," Bhed said. The Dremora nodded curtly.

Bhed waited until they were out of the shop before he said, "Ha."

"Shut up," Thrissi said.

"Yeah, I know," Bhed said. "The Dremoras ruined your suicidal little plan, and now you're stuck with the big, slow, ugly Orc for however many hundred miles it is to Bravil. Well, that's life for you. At least that old iron hammer was good for something."

"You are not so very slow," Thrissi said. She fingered the amulet thoughtfully.

"Oh, thanks," Bhed said dryly. "So you want to stay here today, or just start right out into the freezing fog?"

"We will need supplies, yes. Of the kind which Onesimus does not sell."

"I doubt that bartender at the Count's Arms is going to want to see us again," Bhed said. "And there's all those people in the capes. I can probably collect up some stuff at the Guild if you're willing to wait. It'd be free."

"Fine, but be quick," Thrissi said. "Any further wait may bring this one's curse to others, yes."

"I understand," Bhed said.

"Bhed gro-Gamghaz," Thrissi said, as he turned back toward the Fighters' Guild.

"Yeah, Thrissi."

"This one is not so very sorry you are coming."

Bhed looked down at Thrissi. Her ears were twitching. He risked a careful pat on one arm. "Thanks," he said.

A few minutes later, he came out of the Fighters' Guild with a sack in hand. "Okay," he said. "We're off. And here's a couple hammers, too."

"Thank you," Thrissi said. She tucked the repair hammers into her weapons harness below the black-and-green mace.

"Ever thought about getting a horse?" Bhed said.

"Yes," Thrissi said. "But one horse will not carry us two, and we cannot afford more than one. A cheap one, at that."

"Walking it is, then."

"Indeed."

The Orc and the Khajiit went out the castle gate of Anvil and into the thickening fog. Bhed was grateful for his heavy armor and the clothes under it. His ears were a little chilly, given that the helmet didn't quite come down to his shoulders, but he'd have been a lot colder in steel.

The road was empty of other travelers. This wasn't the time of year to be taking the east-west route across the West Weald. What landscape Bhed could see was brown and sere.

"You'd think the fog would clear up when we got away from the sea," Bhed said.

"One would think so," Thrissi said. Bhed watched her look over her shoulder for about the twentieth time. The wind was blowing from behind them now, sharp and chilly. Thrissi's nostrils flared. "Pause for a moment," she said in a loud, clear voice. "This one has something in her boot."

"Okay," Bhed said. He raised his eyebrows, reaching for his warhammer. "Need any help?"

"No, thank you," Thrissi shook her head and silently drew the dagger from its sheath on her thigh. Then she edged back a few steps, turned, and dove into the fog bank on her right. The gray mist swirled. There was an _oof _and a _thud._

Bhed heard Thrissi hiss. He didn't bother to draw his weapon as he went after her. A few steps in that direction brought him to Thrissi, presently crouching on the chest of a Khajiit with a scarred and crooked muzzle. She held him down with her weight over one foot while the other one pinned his right arm.

She wasn't being any too gentle with the knife at his throat, either.

"Uh, Thrissi," Bhed said.

"This one could easily kill you," she said. "The law would not even object."

"This one offers no resistance," said the other Khajiit. He stared up at Thrissi's flattened ears without flinching, gold eyes open wide. "This worthless one's life belongs to you already."

Thrissi's notched ear jerked upright. "What?"

"Hey, I think I know you," Bhed said. "He's not a bandit, Thrissi. He's in the Fighter's Guild."

"This ugly one is Ba'jjon," said the Khajiit. "Kill him quickly or stand elsewhere, please. This one cannot breathe."

Thrissi got up and stepped quickly back, but she didn't sheathe the dagger. Ba'jjon rose to his feet gracefully. He was wearing the same linen trousers as before, but now he also had leathern shoes and a plain cotte.

"This one intends you no harm," he said.

"Then you should not attempt to follow by stealth," Thrissi said.

"This worthless one suspected you might object, did he attempt to join you openly. This one's conversation with your Orcish friend tended to confirm that impression."

"He's got you there," Bhed said.

Thrissi rolled her eyes as she put away her dagger. "Bhed gro-Gamghaz, if this was your idea - "

"Not me," Bhed said. "I know how you feel about the curse. I know you didn't even want me here. I wouldn't go inviting some stranger I met at the Guild along."

"This one is glad to hear it," Thrissi said. "Go away, Ba'jjon the Unusually Self-Effacing. There is no gold at the end of this road."

"It does not matter," said Ba'jjon. "Where you go, this one follows."

"Is that so," Thrissi said. Ba'jjon folded his arms.

"This one was nearly dragged into the Anvil gate," he said. "This one had hold of a root that was giving way and a clannfear had this one's ankle. Then the gate closed. The creature was torn in half, and this ugly one swore that if he ever found the Hero of Kvatch - "

"He'd get himself killed being mistaken for a bandit?" Bhed said.

"That was not part of this one's plan, no," Ba'jjon said.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

"Why not just let him?" Bhed said reasonably. "It can't be because he'll get killed. You almost cut his throat a second ago."

"That was different," Thrissi said.

"Really?" said Ba'jjon. "Then why did you cut this one's neck?"

"You have lost a few hairs and nothing more," Thrissi said. "Consider yourself… Fortunate, yes. Go home."

Ba'jjon's tail jerked once. "This one has no home," he said quietly. "A gate to Oblivion opened in the middle of it. This worthless one lost one whom he did not wish to lose, no. He was fully as insane as you are for probably six months afterward. And then the gates closed. He has been seeking you every since."

"That's why you were at the Guild, then?" Bhed said.

"Yes," Ba'jjon said. "This one is not afraid to die, Thrissi the Luckless."

Thrissi looked up at the other Khajiit for a long moment. Ba'jjon looked back. His tail did not move at all. "Fine," Thrissi said. She turned her back and started up the road again. "This one warned you."

"Maybe he can help," Bhed said. "You never know."

"He has no weapon," Thrissi said.

"How do you know?" said Bhed.

"This one checked very carefully while she was standing on him," Thrissi said.

"This one does not know how to use one," Ba'jjon said. "This one generally does fine without them."

"What's your guild rank?" Bhed said.

"This worthless one has recently been named a Warder."

"That's further than I've ever gotten, Thrissi," Bhed said.

"That is because the Order of the Virtuous Blood does not award rank in the Fighters' Guild, Orc," Thrissi said. "Your scars are all the badge of rank you need."

"What, the Badge of Failing to Duck?" Bhed said bitterly. "And you're calling me _Orc _again."

Thrissi shot a backward glance in his direction. "Only because this one cannot bring herself to call you _Elf_," she said.

Bhed laughed involuntarily. "You got me. I'm actually a Bosmer, and my real name is Xanthor Windleaper."

"How did you come by the scars?" Ba'jjon said.

"Scroll of Wasting Flame," Bhed said. "We were hunting vampires. What about you?"

"This one has done bodyguard work a few times, yes," Ba'jjon said. "But this ugly one mostly became so in the Imperial City. The acquisition of skill with the fists requires the surviving of attack by persons with swords and maces. At least, in the Arena it does. This one has been hit in the face with blunt objects more times than he cares to count."

"Your behavior is thus explained," Thrissi said over her shoulder. "Only severe injuries to the head can induce humility in a male Khajiit."

Bhed watched Ba'jjon from under the edge of his helmet. _If he can't handle being directly insulted, he'll never make it to Bravil. _But the other Khajiit didn't seem particularly bothered. His tail didn't so much as twitch. In fact, Bhed received the impression he was trying not to laugh as he said, "No doubt you are right. It is fortunate this hapless one has found the company of those better equipped than himself."

"Better equipped, maybe," Bhed said. "We could argue for a while about who's less sane, though."

"Are you changing your mind already, Orc?" Thrissi said. "If you want to go back to Anvil, be this one's guest. Take the inadequately prepared male Khajiit with you."

"No, thanks," Bhed said. "At my current rate of progress, I'll either get killed or I'll come out the richest Orc in Tamriel."

"Or you will be crippled for life," Thrissi said.

"You know what they say," Bhed said. "What doesn't kill you can still take off your legs at the knee."

"This is an Orcish saying?" Ba'jjon said. Before Bhed could answer, a voice rang out from the fog up ahead:

"Stand and deliver!"

"Thank Talos," Bhed said. He drew his warhammer. "The way things've been going, I thought we'd _never _run into any real bandits." Bhed had a mild voice for an Orc, but it still carried well in fog. There was a puzzled silence up ahead, broken only by the sound of Thrissi's mace sliding out of its harness.

It ended when a large Nord in fur armor came hurtling out of the fog. He had an axe in one hand and a big shield in the other. He'd done a good job of judging Bhed's position by his voice, and the powerful stroke of his arm could easily have separated the Orc's head from his shoulders.

That wasn't what happened, of course. What happened was that Bhed hunched his shoulders, the axe slid off his pauldron, and he shoved the Nord back with the Hammer of Endless day applied to the center of the shield. The human staggered back a step, and Bhed slammed the hammer into the shield again, knocking him flat. Thrissi stepped forward and brought her mace down in a short overarm swing that ended in a sickening _crunch._

"Where'd Ba'jjon go?" said Bhed.

A Redguard staggered out of the dim a few yards off. His back was to them, so Bhed saw very clearly the leathern shoe at the end of a linen-clad leg that flew out of the obscuring mist and clipped him on the side of the head. He hit the ground hard and didn't get up again.

"Anyone else?" Ba'jjon's voice said. "This one cannot see through fog."

No one else seemed about to make an appearance. The Khajiit padded back into view a moment later.

"Is that one dead?" Bhed said.

"Oh, certainly," Ba'jjon said, bobbing his head. "The human skull is weak at the temple. Such a blow would be less effective on an Orc, of course, given that the hinge of your jaw is further upwards."

"You spend a lot of time figuring out how to kill Orcs?" Bhed said carefully.

"This ignorant one never knows whom he will have to kill, friend Bhed," Ba'jjon said calmly.

"At last the Self-Effacing One says something which makes sense," Thrissi said. "Come. We have a long way to go yet today."

The Orc and the two Khajiits went on through the fog. It was hard to tell the time of day, since the sun could not be seen overhead. The air was damp and cold.

"So how _would _you kill an Orc with your bare hands?" Bhed said, a few minutes or hours later. Ba'jjon flicked an ear.

"It is very seldom one encounters an Orc out of heavy armor, yes," he said. "Even in the Arena. Some helmets leave the bridge of the nose unprotected, but many have the nasal like your own. Yours is also reinforced, making it more difficult to bend with a kick."

"But you've done it," Bhed said.

"Yes," Ba'jjon said. "Once or twice. Also, if one strikes hard enough, it is possible to warp a breastplate inward. The one wearing it cannot then breathe, nor remedy the problem without removing the breastplate at once."

"That is not specific to Orcs," Thrissi said.

"No, but it is not something this one cares to try if he can help it," Ba'jjon said. "This ugly one does not enjoy having broken bones in his feet, no. Thus he uses other methods when possible. Heavily armored Orcs cause this one less concern than stealthier folk."

"Yeah," Bhed said. "Me, too. I didn't latch onto Thrissi just 'cause of her charming personality."

"Nor this one," Thrissi said. She was walking in front of the other two, so he couldn't see her face, but he did see her notched ear quirk. "It is sometimes expedient to have a partner who can carry you."

"Not if I can help it," Bhed said. "I couldn't have got hold of one of your skinny little thiefish Khajiits. No, I had to find the only one in Cyrodiil who is built like an Orc that's been stepped on."

"This one does not have to listen to such insults," Thrissi said mildly.

"You think my saying you look like an Orc is an insult?" Bhed said.

"What would you say if this one told you she thought you resembled a Khajiit whose face had been flattened with a hammer?" Thrissi said.

"Point taken."


	18. Chapter 18

_A/N: Travel times are completely fudged for plot convenience. Neener neener._

Chapter 18

They were halfway across the West Weald before the fog cleared. Bhed wasn't sure it was much of an improvement. The landscape was still mostly brown, the trees bare and stark except for a very few hardy evergreens. They saw one or two black bears in the distance, but the animals left them alone, too preoccupied with the business of surviving the winter to worry about anything else.

Making camp in the evening was a damp and miserable business. No one said much, not even Thrissi. Bhed didn't particularly care for the way she kept looking at him when she thought he didn't see her. It wasn't normally his nature to worry past tomorrow. He didn't especially want to think about what was going to happen when they found the mage, and the reminder got on his nerves. Ba'jjon was quiet, seemingly aware of the things the other two chose not to say.

Bhed felt better when they were on the road again the next day. Long silences were less awkward when you had something to do. They passed a couple of wayshrines, and Ba'jjon disappeared each time, but Thrissi wouldn't stop and Bhed was afraid to fall behind.

The second time this happened, Ba'jjon came bounding lightly out of the shrubbery ten minutes later. Thrissi flicked an ear, but made no comment. Bhed hadn't heard the other Khajiit coming, but he supposed she had.

"It bothers you that this homely one follows not the faith of his ancestors?" Ba'jjon said.

"This one could not care less," Thrissi said. "This one has seen no more help from Ahnassi than any of the worthless Divines."

"This one supposes there are always the daedra," Ba'jjon said.

"This one has recently seen enough of daedra worshippers, thank you."

"Namirans," Bhed said succinctly.

Ba'jjon raised his ears. "This one has heard things about them, yes. But there are those less repugnant than they."

"Not to this one," Thrissi said.

Bhed was deeply relieved to see the wooden bridge to Bravil up ahead. A city guard leaned against one of the support posts, arms folded. He stared as they went past, openly curious, but didn't try to stop them.

Bhed didn't look down as they crossed the rickety wooden bridge over the river. It was made from planks chained together, and it tended to swing under his weight. He tried not to hear any creaking noises, since the two Khajiit showed such perfect indifference.

"Well," he said as they stepped off the other end. "Bravil still smells exactly the same."

"Ugh," Thrissi said. She went in through the gate and turned unerringly to the right. Bhed walked beside her, looking around. He'd only been to Bravil once. Most visitors generally found that to be enough. The muddy street was not crowded. A few people of various races leaned against the dirty fronts of dark wood buildings, and one or two looked up as they went by, but no one said anything. Bhed wasn't sure where they were going until he saw the tall front of the rickety building that served the Mages Guild in Bravil for a guildhall.

Bhed thought about that. Then he thought about the likely response if he were to ask Thrissi what town she'd been in when she was expelled from the Mages' Guild. It seemed like a bad idea, so he just followed her up onto the wooden porch and through the narrow door. He had to turn slightly sideways to get his pauldrons through it.

"This one will wait out here, yes," Ba'jjon said.

Bhed wasn't completely surprised, when he turned his attention to the room, to see so many staring faces. Between Thrissi's armor and Bhed's scars, they must be quite a sight. A slender Argonian broke the apparent stalemate first. She stepped forward and said politely, "May I help you in some way?"

"This one seeks Kud-Ei, who is head of this guild hall," Thrissi said. "Are you she?"

"Yes," said the Argonian. She switched her tail once, then turned to look pointedly at the other guild members. (Argonian dentition is particularly well suited to this.) They hurriedly went about their business. She turned back. "What can I do for you?"

"This one seeks a mage who might once have lived here," Thrissi said. "An Altmer. His name is Poridir."

Kud-Ei's gently waving tail suddenly stopped. "Why do you want to find Poridir?" she said.

"So that this one may kill him," Thrissi said.

"I'm surprised you would admit that," Kud-Ei said. Bhed wasn't, but he kept this to himself.

Thrissi shrugged. "This one knows what he has done to her. A mer who would do such a thing once would do more, and worse. And it has been three years."

"You are right," Kud-Ei said. She narrowed her eyes to green slits. "He has taken Ardaline. He and Varon Vamori."

"Then tell me where he is, and I will restore her to you," Thrissi said.

"I don't even know who you are," Kud-Ei said. "Why should I tell you? How will you succeed where others have failed? The last two adventurers I sent seeking Ardaline have yet to return, and that was a month ago."

"We're not like other adventurers," Bhed said. The Argonian turned to look up at him as if noticing him for the first time. She took in the green armor, the scars, and the massive hammer strapped to his back.

"Hm. Possibly," she said. "Your names, please."

"Bhed gro-Gamghaz," Bhed said. "This is Thrissi the Luckless."

"Luckless," Kud-Ei repeated. "This one has heard that name somewhere before."

"This one is sure you will remember it," Thrissi said. An ear twitched. "Where is Poridir? This one already knows he lives in a tower to the East. She will find him sooner or later. You will only make it a briefer search."

The Argonian looked at Thrissi. She looked at Bhed. "I suppose there is a chance you will succeed," she said. "I would not be sorry to see harm come to Varon Vamori, with all that he's done to Ardaline. Just don't come back here without her."

"This one understands," Thrissi said.

"All right. Here, let me show you on the map…"

A few moments later, Kud-Ei stood on the threshold and watched them go. The Khajiit with the broken muzzle who slid off her porch and went with them was unfamiliar to her. She was certain she had heard the name Thrissi before, but…

"Stendarr on a stick," Kud-Ei growled under her breath. She had received it nearly three years ago, but she wasn't likely to forget _that _letter from Skingrad in a hurry. People did get expelled from the Guild from time to time, but it was rare to hear the message expressed quite so… Emphatically. There had been words Kud-Ei hadn't known even _existed _in Cyrodilic.

And yet. The letter had also said Thrissi had been thrown into prison. She had obviously paid her debt to society. Besides, Kud-Ei was inclined to sympathize just a little with someone who was thrown out for beating to death a Khajiit who elected to put his hand in the wrong place more than once.

"The worst that can happen," Kud-Ei said to herself, "Is that they'll all be horribly killed." And with that she was obliged to be content.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

So that was how Bhed gro-Gamghaz found himself pinned under a stone slab at the base of a tall tower. It was a testimony to the Dremora workmanship of his armor that his legs weren't broken. Whomever had thrown the slab had had probably been aiming for his head, and while Bhed had been paying close attention to his surroundings(especially after they ran into a pair of skeleton champions a mile or so back), he hadn't been looking up.

"Well," Thrissi said. "We now know that one of them has mastered telekinesis. No Altmer or Dunmer could have lifted this."

"No Orc could lift it either," Bhed growled. He tried to shift the weight for the fifth or sixth time, but it didn't budge.

"So this one sees." Thrissi crouched in the shadow of the slab, hopefully hidden from the view of whoever had thrown it. Ba'jjon squatted beside her, looking around with a twitching tail. Bhed tried not to contemplate the possibility of the enchanted metal of his greaves collapsing. The weight had pressed his legs far enough down into the damp ground that his upper body was forced into an angle. He tried awkwardly to support himself on his elbows.

"What will we do now?" Ba'jjon said. "We cannot leave him. Nor can we move the slab."

"Those above now know where he is," Thrissi said. "And this one suspects they are on their way." She looked around, nostrils flaring. "Yes. There is only one thing to do." The two Khajiit looked at each other.

"This one understands," Ba'jjon said.

Five seconds later, Bhed gro-Gamghaz was completely alone. _I hate it when she does that. _He looked around, ears straining for any sound. There was a lot of rock and rubble strewn around the tower's base, but some of it had plants growing on it and had evidently been there some time. The tower itself was probably fifty feet high. It looked old, so it seemed likely the mage Poridir hadn't built it. _Maybe it's part of one of the old forts. _

Something clattered off to his right, like a pebble rattling down a stone surface. Bhed drew his hammer awkwardly. _Not that it'll be much good against a mage._ This glum thought was proven correct a moment later, when the paralysis hit. Bhed didn't see where it came from. His spine was forced back at an uncomfortable angle as his upper body went limp. His fingers lost their grip on the hammer. It hit the ground with a soft _thump._

Footsteps followed, crunching slightly on the gravel that littered the soft earth. They paused a way off, the unseen person apparently looking warily around. Then the sound resumed, and a figure loomed into Bhed's field of view. It was between him and the sun, so features were hard to make out, but the shape of the ears was unmistakable. "Tsk, it looks like another adventurer," said the Elf. "You may come out, Varon. He's quite immobile."

"I saw more than one of them," said another voice. Another set of footsteps became audible, and a young Dunmer in a red velvet tunic looked down at him from the other side. "Are you sure he's alive? His legs must be utterly crushed."

"He's still breathing," said the Altmer. "They're a robust race, one supposes. Stand back."

"Aren't you going to kill him?" said the Dunmer, who was apparently Varon Vamori.

"Of course," snapped the Altmer. Bhed blinked, roughly the only movement of which he was presently capable. It wasn't often that you heard a High Elf snarl. "If I kill him now, you young fool, we won't be able to use him for anything but a simple revenant. I have other plans." The Altmer waved a hand. Then he leaned back out of Bhed's view, and the stone lofted itself into the air. The weight was suddenly gone from Bhed's legs. "Well, well. That must be an unusual suit of armor. He's still in one piece. That's better still."

Bhed didn't much care for the sound of this, but the Altmer was busy telekinetically prying him from the ground and he still couldn't move.

"We should do something about Kud-Ei," Varon Vamori said. "You know she's the reason they keep coming out here."

"_You _should do something about her, boy," Poridir said. "It's none of my affair, and I have no objection to an ongoing supply of living bodies. One cannot perform divination with one's own blood, and you foolishly insist on keeping the girl's for yourself."

"I want her whole," Vamori said sulkily. "She'll never have me otherwise."

"She'll never have you anyway, if you let her choose." Bhed watched the sky pivot suddenly overhead as Poridir turned him, and then they were moving steadily in one direction. _Back to the tower. _"I don't see why you do not simply take her, myself."

"I don't just want her _body_," said Vamori. "I want her to belong to me entirely. I want her _will._"

"There are always charm spells."

"Then it wouldn't be her decision any more," Vamori said patiently, in the tone of one rehashing a very old argument.

"How very odd," Poridir said. "Bring that hammer, please. Even _your _skill at telekinesis should be equal to that."

"You serve the god your way, I serve mine. And my skill is improving. You said so yourself."

Bhed received a brief impression of something wooden passing overhead, and then a series of rapidly moving stone blocks. Then everything tilted as they began to go up a set of stairs. This went on for quite some time. _Lots of stairs. _The paralysis showed no sign of wearing off. _Where in Oblivion did Thrissi go?_ The inability to move was making him increasingly claustrophobic, and it had been a long time since he'd been anything resembling berserk. He could feel the magicka lurking. It always was.

_Yeah, and then I'd be berserk and paralyzed._ _Now that would be really, really stupid._ Bhed clamped down firmly on the bloodlust and tried not to think about what was going to happen when they got to the top of the tower. _Besides, that Dremora said I'd need the ring. That means I'll have a chance to use it, right?_ Unless he'd bungled that already, of course. That was always a possibility. _Great._

After what felt like about a year, the ceiling slowed down and then shot upward until it was barely visible in the distance. The room was very dark. Bhed could move his eyes just a little, but he wasn't sure he really wanted to see what was on the tables around the edges. The room was round, and the windows were very large. Bhed did glimpse a tall but very neat stack of stone slabs beside one of them.

Then he was dropped on the floor. His helmet absorbed the impact when his head hit, but he felt his heart beat faster in spite of himself.

"There," said Poridir's voice. "You have that frenzy spell ready, Varon?"

"I doubt it's even necessary. Particularly after you just dropped him," Varon said. Bhed felt the _clang _through the floor as the hammer landed beside him.

"Shut up and cast, boy. I've heard it's possible to get some interesting effects with Orcish blood under these circumstances," said Poridir. Bhed heard a metallic _clink. _

"If you say so," said Varon.

_Oh, crap, _Bhed thought, and then the spell hit.

Bhed gro-Gamghaz might not be the brightest Orc, but he was, under ordinary circumstances, both calm and rational. He would never have reached the degree of control he'd achieved over his bloodlust otherwise. Even so, the effect of the frenzy spell felt like having lava poured down his spine. All that he could see faded into dim red, and his heart thudded in his ears, and every coherent thought dissolved into one long primal scream of rage.

He couldn't make a sound, and he still couldn't move. When one of the mages removed his gauntlet and cut his left wrist, it nearly killed him. He couldn't feel the pain, could hardly feel anything at all, but the fact of someone touching him made the uncontrollable desire to strangle them so powerful that his heart almost exploded. He shook.

There was a patter of fluid on metal. Voices spoke, but Bhed couldn't understand the words:

"That's enough. Heal it, Varon."

"Why? You'll just have to cut him again."

"Yes, and I plan to enjoy it just as much next time. Heal it."

"Fine." There was a soft hiss, and Bhed's hand plunked back down on the floor. He was still shaking. "See anything?"

"Silence, I'm not finished with the incantation… Ah. Hm. That's odd, it's that same Khajiit again."

"What Khajiit?"

"Oh, I put a curse on some Khajiiti woman in Leyawiin three years ago. It was rather experimental, but I'd only been serving Sheogorath for a few months then. It doesn't seem to have had the fatal effect it was supposed to. She appears nearly every time I try to divine, I can't imagine why."

"Isn't that Bravil?" said Varon Vamori.

There was a sudden, fraught silence. Bhed gro-Gamghaz could hear himself breathing harshly. Then he heard another voice, familiar even through the haze:

"So this one was your experiment, was she?"

"So you've found your way here at last," said Poridir. "Come down in the world a little, haven't you? Whatever happened to that fellow you were - "

"He is dead," said Thrissi the Luckless. "Along with everyone else for whom this one has ever cared, except that Orc."

"What, _this _Orc?" Something prodded his leg. The resulting surge in blood pressure eliminated his ability to hear for several seconds. Then he heard Thrissi speaking again:

"…free me from this curse."

"Ah, so you did find that out," said the Altmer smugly. "Unfortunately for you, Madam, I created that curse as an homage to my lord Sheogorath. I have no intention of revoking it, and you will not find the two of us easily killed. Not even with the skills one could reasonably suppose would be possessed by the Hero of Kvatch."

There was a creak of harness as the Khajiit drew her mace.

"We will see," said Thrissi the Luckless.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

There was a crackle, and then a snarl. A flash of light nearly blinded Bhed, and then someone said in his ear, "This poor one is no magus, to dispel such a thing, but he has been saving this for a long time."

Someone poured something cold and tasteless down his throat, and he swallowed convulsively. Bhed gasped as his heart skipped a beat, but then it pounded on uninterrupted. He couldn't quite think again, but he knew there was something he should be doing. He couldn't quite move, either. But if he tried very hard –

The fingers of his right hand twitched. Bhed tried with the other arm and managed, through superhuman (or possibly superorcish) effort, to flop his left arm up onto his belly. Further than that he could not go. Bhed growled.

"What is it?" Ba'jjon whispered. Bhed was just barely able to remember him as a being with a name and not just something that ought to be killed. Bhed tried again. This time he managed to get hold of the ring with his other hand and pull it off, but then his arm flopped back to his side again. Somewhere out of sight, Thrissi made a pained noise.

"How very peculiar," said Poridir. "I can't seem to take your mace away. Some sort of spell absorption, perhaps?"

Bhed let go of the ring – making his fingers unclench was almost physically painful – and managed to slide his first finger through the hole. Everything did not, surprisingly, go black. It went green instead.

"Oh, by all that's unholy," said Poridir. "Now what have you done, Varon?"

"It wasn't me!"

There was a double jangle of magicka being used, and then the sound of Thrissi's breathless laughter. The dispel potion seemed to have a little more effect as time went on. Bhed rolled onto his side and looked at the room.

The two sorcerers stood back against one wall, hands glowing faintly. Thrissi faced them across the room. She was leaning slightly to one side as she held the mace with both hands; apparently something _had _hit, though if it was an attempt at paralysis it had not succeeded. Her ears stood firm and straight.

"The Eye of Night will not pierce this darkness," she said. "This one knows it is so, because she cannot see herself. You will have to go by what you hear."

Poridir loosed a bolt of lightning before she had finished the last sentence. The Khajiit was enveloped in a crackling cloud. Bhed struggled hard to get upright, but got only as far as one elbow. Still partly frenzied, it didn't occur to him to wonder why she hadn't tried to dodge.

The lightning dissipated, and Thrissi still stood. Tiny sparks arced across her black armor. Her shoulders heaved, and Bhed at last heard her breathing over his own. Ba'jjon, he realized suddenly, was creeping around the edge of the room toward Varon Vamori. He went on all fours, in a position that would be very uncomfortable for anyone less flexible than a Khajiit.

"Poridir," Varon said. "I can't use life detection, either." The fear in his voice made Bhed's fists clench involuntarily, and he almost lost the ring. He tried using his thumb to fix it more securely on his finger.

Poridir didn't answer. He was quietly edging away from Vamori. Thrissi took a slow step forward, turned unerringly toward the Altmer. Bhed watched the glow of magicka intensify around the mage's hands, but Thrissi must not be able to see it through the abnormal darkness.

Bhed growled again, rumbling deep in his chest, and looked around for his warhammer. It lay a few feet away, out of reach. He dragged himself toward it, bumping his elbows over the floor. The paralysis seemed to be wearing off faster than the frenzy. Some small thinking part of his brain was worried by this, but the overwhelming urge to kill something overrode it.

Varon Vamori, now wide-eyed and sweating, jerked around toward the sound. His hands began to glow, and Bhed heard the crackle of another lightning spell in the making. It was questionable whether or not Bhed's overtaxed body could have survived that, but the point was moot. Ba'jjon's ears flickered at the sound, and then he pounced.

The top of the Khajiit's flat head hit Vamori squarely in the midriff. He staggered back, narrowly missing the open window, and hit the wall with an _oof._ The spell dissipated as he lost his concentration, and then Ba'jjon found his feet and reached for Vamori's head with deft, scarred hands. There was a _snap._

Poridir looked toward the sound, hesitating between targets in the dark. Thrissi ignored it. She took a step forward, breathed deeply once, and snapped the mace around so fast that Bhed couldn't track the movement.

It nearly took the mage's head off, but it still wasn't quite fast enough. The entire crimson discharge of mana engulfed Thrissi in a light that was painful even to look at. The two bodies hit the floor at almost the same time.

Bhed's fingers closed around the handle of the warhammer, but it was too late. He jerked the ring from his other hand.

"Ah hah," Ba'jjon said, as the room's lighting returned to normal. Pale daylight poured in the tall windows. "What a very peculiar ring for an Orc to carry." He scanned the room. "Luckless one?"

"Aaaargh," said Thrissi. She sat up, shaking her head. "Bhed?" Her voice was ragged, barely comprehensible.

"Hhhrrrrrgh," Bhed said.

"Ah. This one is very sorry." Thrissi reached for the dead Altmer, fumbled among the amulets depending from his neck, and yanked one free. She somehow managed to get upright and staggered over to where Bhed still lay. Ba'jjon stayed where he was, prodding at the bodies with a careful shoe.

It was odd, really. Bhed had no trouble resisting the urge to take a swing at her as she fastened the amulet around his neck –

And the world snapped back to normal with the force of a cracking whip. Bhed blinked, then grimaced at the pain in his head and arm and leg. Then his newly restored thinking brain reprocessed the last ten minutes all at once. He let go of the hammer and lurched up onto his knees, swearing. "What in Oblivion kind of amulet is _that?"_

"An amulet of dispel," Thrissi croaked. "This one is not surprised the worthless one should have one." She tried to get up again, but her knees buckled. Bhed, still on his knees, caught her by the shoulders. The bloodlust hangover wasn't as bad as it could have been. He only felt like he'd been beaten _half _to death.

"I'm surprised you're alive," he said. "Any potions of healing over there, Ba'jjon?"

"This one is surprised also," Thrissi said. "Let go." Bhed tried that. She fell over. He caught her again. The ends of her visible fur were scorched, and a thin trickle of blood ran out of each ear.

"It appears not," Ba'jjon said. "This one suspects the magi trusted to their own skill in that area. And this poor one had only the potion of dispel."

"We're stuck, then," Bhed said. He sat on the floor and propped Thrissi against his cuirass. The movement sent an agonizing pain through his left leg, but it was better than not being able to move. The two of them leaned on each other, panting. Thrissi's head came about up to the middle of Bhed's chest. "I think that bastard Vamori stabbed me in the kneecap."

"Bastard, yes," Ba'jjon said. "It is very easy to find the seam of the greaves when your victim cannot move. Do not worry, friend Bhed. This ugly one has an idea. Wait here."

"Where would I go?" Bhed said to Ba'jjon's back. The Khajiit quickly vanished down the stairwell.

There was a long minute's silence. Bhed could feel Thrissi breathing. He couldn't decide if his ears were ringing, or if the sound came from one of the room's scattered magical apparati.

"I'm sorry," Bhed said after a while. "I wasn't much help."

One of Thrissi's ears went _whish _as it twitched across the breast of his cuirass. "It is this one who owes the apology," she said. "And far more than that, yes. This one allowed you to be hurt by the evil one. And even so, lying thus paralyzed, you have saved her life twice over."

"Twice?" Bhed said. "I remember putting the ring on, barely, but - "

"The amulet," Thrissi said. She reached up weakly and flicked at the iron pendant around her neck. Bhed squinted downward. It seemed to be steaming faintly. "Made from the weapon of one who has defended this one, yes. One who defends her still. The first bolt of fire would been quite fatal otherwise. This Poridir was a powerful mage."

"So the curse is gone now," Bhed said eventually.

"So this one believes," Thrissi said. "Why?"

"Nothing fatal happened to Ba'jjon."

"Oh. Yes."

"Still…" Bhed said.

"What?"

"I wonder where he is?"


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

"This one does not think the Self-Effacing One is coming back," Thrissi said. A long time had passed, but Bhed wasn't sure how long. He had changed position, to keep the sun from the window out of their eyes, but it had hurt more than slightly. Flies had gotten inside and were orbiting the corpses of the mages. Blood was still trickling out of the holes in his leg and arm.

"Looks like it," Bhed said.

"This one suspects she is bleeding inside. Are you able to stand?" Thrissi said. She lay limply against his cuirass.

"Doubt it," Bhed said. "The frenzy just about did me in. And if I could, I couldn't carry you - "

"That does not matter - " Thrissi started to say.

"Yeah, it does. Besides, I'd never make it down those stairs on this knee. So either way, you're stuck with me."

"So it appears," Thrissi said. "This one did not expect to return from this expedition, but…" Her voice was weak, but the change from thickly Khajiiti to purely Cyrodilic was very distinct. "…I wish I hadn't killed you, too."

"Well, you did try pretty hard not to bring me," Bhed said. "And I _knew _that accent was fake."

"It is not fake," Thrissi said, returning to her original diction. "This one speaks fluently the tongue of her ancestors."

"But you grew up in Leyawiin," Bhed said. "So it's not like you have to talk that way."

"That is beside the point, yes." She made a noise that might be considered a cough, if it had involved less of a gurgling noise. Bhed tried to ignore the spots gathering at the edges of his vision. _Didn't think I'd bled that much._

"Thrissi?"

"Yes, Bhed."

"What I said earlier, about not being a pervert…?"

"Yes?"

"Um. That was true. So I hope you won't take this the wrong way..."

"This one understands," Thrissi said. One hand flopped onto his left greave in an awkward pat. "This one loves you, too."

"Oh. Good." Bhed shook his head. It was mostly just the stiffness of his armor that kept him sitting upright now.

"Do you hear something?" Thrissi said.

"There's this ringing noise - "

"No, you idiot," Thrissi said faintly. "Footsteps."

Bhed listened. Several seconds passed before he heard it, but the sound was distinct. He was fairly sure it wasn't Ba'jjon, whose feet would not slap the stone so loudly no matter what he was wearing. It was still sort of a surprise when an Altmer in a tattered dress burst through the doorway into the tower room. She was tall and slim, narrow of face and large of eye. She was smudged and dirty, but her golden skin had the perfectly smooth and unscarred look of one who has never known illness, want, or battle. She nearly glowed. Bhed found it difficult to look directly at her.

She pressed both hands to her mouth as she stared at the scene of carnage. "Lady Mara protect us!"

"This one is certain that she has," Ba'jjon said from behind her. "Else this negligent one would not have found you at all. This one's lockpicking skills were strained as it was. Please hurry, we are nearly too late."

"Oh, yes. Of course!" said the Elf. "I am so _very_ sorry." She ran forward and dropped to her knees beside Bhed and Thrissi. One hand reached out to each. There was a rising hum of magicka, and blue light spiraled up around them. The pain in Bhed's leg and arm subsided. The bloodlust headache didn't completely go away, but it was lessened.

"I'm afraid I can't remedy your loss of blood, Friend Orc," the Elf said. "But this is the least I can do for those who saved me from Varon. I thought I would never see daylight again."

"Then you're Ardaline?" Bhed said. Thrissi edged away from him, then got carefully to her knees. Ba'jjon offered her a hand. To Bhed's surprise, she took it. Bhed climbed carefully to his feet.

"I am," said the Elf. "And I am forever in your debt."

Bhed looked at the other two. Ba'jjon's tail was trainquilly still. Thrissi winked her ears down and up again, a gesture of bemusement. Since he was talking to an Elf, however, Bhed quashed the urge to laugh.

"I think we've got enough of that going around already," he said. "But thanks."

---

Ardaline looked the other way as Thrissi and Ba'jjon looted the bodies, but she did insist that they be buried. Bhed elected to drop them out of the window rather than carry them down all the stairs. This was messy, but fortunately Ba'jjon had also found a shovel, so burying them did not involve any unpleasant stains on his armor.

The four of them stood and looked down at the new graves. Bhed leaned rather heavily on the shovel. His head still pounded.

"I suppose someone ought to say something," Ardaline said.

"May the two of them rot forever in the lowest plane of Hell," Thrissi said. Ardaline made a sound that, to Bhed's ears, sounded like _erk._

"I don't think that's what she meant," Bhed said.

"This one's head still hurts," Thrissi said, echoing Bhed's own sentiments. "She will worry about the gentle one's sensibilities later, yes. First let us find water."

"Good idea," Bhed said.

"There is a fountain in the room where this one found Ardaline," Ba'jjon said. He put a gentle hand under Ardaline's elbow and nudged her toward the tower door. She went, but reluctantly.

"I would rather not go back there," she said.

"You will not be alone," Ba'jjon said. "We who have slain your captors will let no harm come to you, no."

"All… All right," Ardaline said. She wrapped her arms tightly around herself.

"We'd have to go back in anyway," Bhed said, turning toward the dark doorway. "It's going to rain again, and there's no way Thrissi and I could make it back to Bravil tonight, even if you two could. Don't be afraid. I doubt you could be safer with anybody than the Hero of Kvatch."

The Elf looked at Thrissi, startled. "Then you are Thrissi the Luckless?"

"This one is luckless no longer," Thrissi said. "The curse is broken. But yes. She is Thrissi."


	22. Chapter 22

Epilogue

Early the next morning, the four of them started the long walk back to Bravil. Poridir had apparently been something of a miser. Between the two of them, Bhed and Thrissi were practically jangling with loot. Ba'jjon had a sack with his own share. Ardaline had declined anything except for a locket that apparently belonged to her, which Vamori had taken when she was kidnapped.

"I don't want anything that might have been his," she said in her soft voice. "I would accept nothing from him before. I won't now."

"Your loss," Thrissi said cheerfully. "This one is sure she will never understand Elves."

Ardaline was quiet all the way back, probably still coming to terms with her ordeal. Sometime in the afternoon, trekking down the dull brown road amongst the dried-up trees, Thrissi glanced at Ba'jjon. Bhed watched her ears flicker.

"This one was wrong about you," she said.

"Is that so?" Ba'jjon said.

"You have proven to be a useful Khajiit to know, yes."

"This ugly one is pleased to hear it," Ba'jjon said. His ears remained cheerily high. "It was his hope and intention to be of use to you."

"What are your plans, when we return to Bravil?" Thrissi said.

"That will depend upon you," Ba'jjon said. "This one has not changed his mind. Where you go, he is following."

"And what do you say to that, Bhed gro-Gamghaz?" Thrissi said. Bhed shrugged.

"Fine with me. Maybe I'll live to see next month."

"This one does not know what you mean," Thrissi said. "The curse is broken."

"Yeah," Bhed said. "But you're still you."

"Bhed gro-Gamghaz."

"Yes, Thrissi."

"Shut up."

THE END


End file.
